


Watson and Holmes x2

by LunaShakespeare19



Series: Watson and Holmes x2 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Eventual John Watson/Mary Morstan, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, First sherlock fic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mycroft is a good uncle, OOC Sherlock, Parent-Child Relationship, Parentlock, Past Drug Use Mentioned, Romance, Sherlock Has a Daughter, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlolly - Freeform, Slow Burn, The game is on, flatmates, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22738720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaShakespeare19/pseuds/LunaShakespeare19
Summary: John Watson knew living with Sherlock Holmes was going to be interesting. What he did not expect was that the world's only consulting detective had a daughter who would be coming to live with them. Kate Holmes is a lot like her father in both good and bad ways. As friendships are formed and cases are solved, the Holmes family are about to face one of the biggest mysteries of all. Every Watson needs a Holmes, and two is better then one.
Relationships: Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, John Watson & Original Female Character(s), Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mrs hudson & orginal female character, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Holmes & Original Female Character(s), Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: Watson and Holmes x2 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842814
Comments: 25
Kudos: 65





	1. Meet Kate Holmes

John Watson and Sherlock Holmes returned to 221B Baker Street after having a late night take away to celebrate solving the case. They should have been tired, but the adrenaline was still coursing through them and they were still wide awake. John sat down while Sherlock played the violin. John had to admit, when he was told Sherlock played the violin, he was worried that it would get on his nerves, but he had to admit he was quite good. Suddenly he stopped playing.

“I should tell you something else about our new living arrangement.” Sherlock said, turning to his new acquaintance.

“What’s that?”

“It won’t be just the two us.” He began. 

“You got a dog or something?”

“Unfortunately, no. Mrs Hudson wouldn’t allow it despite my best attempts to convince her.” Sherlock smirked. “I’m referring to my daughter, Kate, she’ll be living with us.” 

“Sorry, you have a daughter?” John asked in disbelief, no one at any point had mentioned a daughter. 

“Yes, she’s been living with my parents until I could find somewhere more permanent. She’ll be here tomorrow.” Sherlock explained. 

“Her mother?” 

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” John said, wondering if the loss of a loved one played a part in why he was so… well, Sherlock. 

“Don’t be, she wasn’t pleasant and Kate is better off. Doesn’t remember her. She died when Kate was a seven and half months old.” Sherlock then went back to playing and John had to speak over the music. 

“So, it’s just been the two of you?” 

“Yes, quite nice really.” Sherlock smiled fondly as his mind filled with memories of his daughter, all of which he recalled in high definition. 

“She like you? I mean with her own deductions and all that?”

“She’s clever, but not as clever sometimes I’ll call her stupid, but she knows I don’t really mean it like that. Her deductions aren’t bad, she’s pays attention, unlike most people.” Sherlock explained. He then pulled out his phone and handed it to John. His screensaver was a young girl who looked about sixteen. She had dark hair with a slight curl, like Sherlock, and her eyes were a dark green which he suspected came from her mother. She had a bright smile and looked less standoffish then her father did.

“She another sociopath?” John asked, as he passed the phone back to him. 

“No, better social skills then me, but she’s still managed to pick up some of my more undesirable habits.” 

“Like what?”

“Doesn’t always know when she says the wrong thing.” Sherlock explained. “I’m not much better either, so it’s not like she has a good role model, tried smoking once but put a stop to that.” 

“Teenagers.” John shrugged while Sherlock smirked, silently agreeing with him. 

“Not always easy but she really is my pride and joy.” Sherlock smiled; his fatherly pride obvious on his face. "You know all those cheesy things they say about being a parent? how it changes you for the better and all that malarkey?" 

"Yeah?" John smiled.

"Absolutely true."

“Does she know about the… you know?” John asked, trying to find a way to bring up the drug bust earlier. 

“The drugs? Yes, she does. We’ve never hid anything from each other. She’s practically my sole motivation for staying clean, despite the benefit they have on my thought process. She’ll be here tomorrow morning, you two will get along.” Sherlock assured him and with that he went back to his violin and John went back to his tea, intrigued by this new development. 

The morning, John woke to sound of chatter and plates clanging together. He quickly dressed and went to the kitchen where he found Sherlock and Mrs Hudson. Sherlock had the paper and a cup of tea, while Mrs Hudson ran around tidying things up. On the table was a freshly opened tin of biscuits, John went to grab one, but Mrs Hudson slapped his hand away.

“Those are for Kate, not you.” She gently scolded. Sherlock smirked behind his paper and checked his watch. 

“She won’t be here for another fifthteen minutes so she won’t notice if there’s one missing.” Sherlock pushed the tin towards John who happily picked a biscuit. 

“You must be looking forward to having her around all the time now Sherlock.” Mrs Hudson said as she fluffed a pillow. 

“I am, I find it quite dull without her.” 

“You’ll like her John, lovely girl and very polite. Understands I’m not a housekeeper.” Mrs Hudson said with a pointed look towards Sherlock. 

“No one asked you to buy the biscuits.”

“They’re a welcome home gift and a one off so don’t get used to it.” She turned her attention to the window. “What if she comes early?”

“Mycroft is bringing her and if he is anything, it's punctual.” 

The trio then sat in silence for a few minutes while the men drank their tea and Mrs Hudson looked out the window. Sherlock then stood without a word and made his way downstairs, John looked at him confused, but then Mrs Hudson exclaimed happily.

“There she is.” She cheered and then followed Sherlock to the front door, with John close behind her. 

A stylish black car stopped in front of the flat, Mycroft stepped out first and nodded his head at the trio, behind him the young girl from Sherlock’s phone climbed out. Sherlock dashed down the small set of steps and scooped the girl up in his arms. She laughed as he twirled her round before putting her down. Sherlock went to grab her suitcase while Mrs Hudson and Kate hugged. Mrs Hudson kissed her cheek and commented on how tall she had gotten. Kate then turned her attention to John who stood there awkwardly, not sure how to act with the touching reunion taking place before him. 

“You must be Doctor Watson.” She stuck her hand out for him to shake. “Kate Holmes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I heard you only knew about my existence last night, or early this morning if you want to be technical.” 

“Was a bit of a surprise but since meeting your father I have been constantly surprised.” John explained. Kate smiled at him and nodded.

“Let me guess; he mentioned playing the violin and going days without talking but never mentioned a daughter, am I right?” 

“Yes, said potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” 

“And mentioning her would imply she is the worst of me, when that is not true.” Sherlock defended himself, taking Kate’s suitcase into the flat with Mrs Hudson and Mycroft close behind him. 

“I should warn you, we are quite similar in some areas, think you can handle it?” She asked. People found it very difficult to tolerate a Holmes, they were an incredibly difficult brand of people to deal with, but from what she had heard from her uncle (albeit very little) on the way over, she was confident that John would be one of them. 

“I think I can handle it.” John assured her and the two made their way into the flat. 

“So, Iraq or Afghanistan?” Kate asked. John laughed.


	2. Deductions

Living with Sherlock and Kate Holmes was, to put it plainly… intriguing. For starters; Sherlock and Kate were very similar, as parents and children were, Kate did in fact have better social skills but she would have moments of uncertainty where her deductions were clearly made with the goal to insult people, mostly Anderson and Donovon, he would always take great pride in their shocked and disgusted faces. In her defence, she did not take kindly to her father being called a freak. There were times when John would hear Donovon mumble ‘freak junior’ under her breath and before John could jump to her defence, Sherlock would send a dirty look that seemed to momentarily put the fear of god in her. Sherlock would let the insults roll of his back, but he drew the line at Kate being treated the same. 

The two would conduct strange experiments in the kitchen involving body parts which had been generously donated by Molly Hooper. There was one particular afternoon after Kate had come in from school that the two somehow caused an explosion which caused John to jump to his feet. He turned to see the two of them covered in ash and the flat was suddenly filled with the smell of chemicals. John went to open a window, before they all choked to death. 

“Well that was unexpected.” Sherlock noted, seemingly unfazed by the disturbance. 

“Yeah.” Kate agreed. “Pretty cool though wasn’t it?”

“Defiantly.” 

There was one difference between the duo; where Sherlock seemed to say what was on his mind regardless of how it might come out. When it came to most people, Kate was very much the same with the exception of Molly Hooper. 

“Been at the biscuits again Molly? You’ve put on at two pounds.” Sherlock said, eyes glued to the slid he was looking at in the lab. John and Kate were with him, John looking shocked (surely even Sherlock knew not to comment on a woman’s weight?) and Kate looked frightened, she quickly jumped in. 

“If it’s from your homemade shortbread, then that makes sense. I could live off those biscuits.” She turned to her father. “That jumper is particularly thick, could create the illusion of weight gain.” 

“Not really.” Sherlock mumbled, still inspecting the slide. 

Molly smiled sadly before mumbling something about some paperwork and left the three of them to it. Once the door was closed, Kate hit her father’s shoulder, pulling his attention from the microscope. 

“What?”

“Do you have to talk to her like that? We have to stay in her good books or there goes our body part supply.” She pointed out. 

“Kate, I know you have this ridiculous idea in your head, but you’ll have to let it go.” Sherlock insisted, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Lestrade. He received another and then without another word, ushered John and Kate out the lab they made their way to the crime scene.

They found themselves in a closed off car park where the victim had been found sitting up in his car, like normal, with a bullet wound in the head. Sherlock went ahead of them two of them to have a look. 

“What did he mean by idea?” John asked. 

“I just don’t like him being rude to Molly.” She explained. The two then rushed over to Sherlock when he called Kate over to have a look. 

“What do you see?” He asked, ignoring the looks from the other officers (probably for having a minor at a crime scene). 

“His knuckles are bruised so he’s been in a lot of fights. Nicotine stains on his fingers and thick smell of smoke on his cloths, chain smoker. Based on the position of the lighter on the floor, he was getting ready to light a cigarette when the shot was fired, and he dropped it. Multiple bookie slips in the glove compartment, none of them winners.” She deduced. 

“How can you tell that by not looking at them?” Sherlock asked, even though he probably already knew. John watched the interaction between the two and found himself enjoying it. Sherlock was clearly giving his daughter a chance to hone her skills, rather than just telling her. 

“The sheer number of them says he’s been at this a long time, he would be careful with a winning ticket, probably fold it neatly in his pocket or wallet. He’s crumpled these up in frustration, so he’s lost. The shot was a clean one to the head through the window shield. He owed someone too much money, so he was taken out.” She concluded. “How’d I do?”

“Quite well.” 

“Dad, this is clearly a two what we doing here?” 

“Gives you a chance to practice.” He explained. 

“I’ve probably missed a dozen things.” She mumbled, clearly disappointed with herself. 

“Not a dozen, maybe nine…eleven at the most.” He assured her. 

“Right go on, explain the rest and don’t leave anything out.” She said, knowing full well he didn’t need to be asked. The two looked into the car and Sherlock showed her what she had missed. 

“Should she be here?” A voice shouted, John and the two Holmess turned to see Lestrade coming towards them. “Not got school?”

“Teacher training day.” Kate clarified. “Besides the murder has already happened and we’re surrounded by police, what could be safer?”

“You’re still a minor.” He argued they had had this conversation more than once, but it never seemed to stick with either of them. 

“I work better with her here, besides what’s the harm of another set of eyes?”

“Can you believe this?” Lestrade turned to John, who shrugged.

“Helps if he has someone to bounce idea off of.” He said. “She’s quite good actually.” 

“No, I know she is, chip off the old block but she’s still a minor. I get enough grieve when I call him in, I don’t need child endangerment added to it.” 

“Think of it as work experience.” Kate said, she and Sherlock now coming to stand beside them. 

“Talk to the man’s bookie, I recognise the name of the particular shop and the owner is former military, I wager he had an old snipper friend do the job.” 

“What’s the name?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock told him and he wrote it down. Lestrade thanked them before shouting over to a uniform where they were going next. 

“We following?” John asked. 

“No, they can handle it from here. Shall we get lunch?” Sherlock asked. Kate and John happily agreed, and the trio left the car park. The three found themselves in a café, happily tucking into some fish and chips. Kate was telling them about some gossip that was going on at her school. 

“Mrs Lincoln is defiantly sweet on the new P.E teacher.” She explained. “And Tom cheated on Lucy again but she’s still with him.”

“Her mother does the same with that boyfriend of hers.” Sherlock said. “ And I take it that Mrs Lincoln has finally left her husband, or is it the old chemistry teacher all over again?”

“Chemistry teacher.” She clarified. “Could you not mention anything at the next parent teacher evening?”

“I’ll try and besides my deductions got that teacher to rethink their grading system.” 

“Right, what’s going on with you John? Work good?” Kate asked. 

“Yeah, pretty mundane but mundane is good.” 

“Jobs are boring.” Sherlock deadpanned. 

“Jobs help pay the rent.” John pointed out. 

Kate watched the two men, enjoying the banter between the two of them. She was slightly worried in the early days, but John had been living with them for a few months now and it seemed to be going quite well. It always benefitted her father to have someone to talk to when he was on a case and with school, she couldn’t always be there, so John was a good substitute. She might even go as far as to say they were becoming friends. She and John were even getting along pretty well, he was quite nice to have around. This arrangement seemed to be working out perfectly. 

The three finished their lunch and headed back to the flat. The rest of the evening was spent with exploding experiments while John typed up their newest case. When Kate said goodnight, leaving John and Sherlock to their own devices. John was typing up their latest case while Sherlock lay on the sofa. 

“So, what idea does Kate have?” John asked, Sherlock sighed dramatically and sat up to face his friend.

“She has this idea that Molly and I would be a good couple.” He explained. 

“You and Molly, Molly Hopper and you?” John said, shocked.

“Yes.” Sherlock signed, “As you I’m sure you know Molly has a crush on me and Kate thinks I should ask her out.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t think it would work out.” 

“Is it because of Kate’s mum?” Sherlock hadn’t told him anything new since that first night, only her name. 

“John, Sarah wasn’t some big love of my life, she was an unpleasant woman who I made the mistake of sleeping with when I was high, despite the rather pleasant outcome.” Sherlock explained. 

“I see, I assume Kate knows.” 

“Like I said, we don’t hide things from each. After Kate was born, I made sure to stay clean for her sake, but Sarah didn’t care, she had given birth so she was done. She overdosed a few months later. Some women aren’t cut out for motherhood.” 

“So, your just not interested in Molly then?”

“Never said that.” 

“So, you are? Why not ask her out then?”

“Fine, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in Molly, but I can’t ask her out because I can be a difficult person to be with besides, she’s too important to Kate, I’d muck it up for the both of us.”

“Not necessarily, she seems to know you pretty well.” John argued. “Besides if Kate is as smart as you say she is then she might be on to something, as long as you don’t bring up her weight again.” 

“I just don’t want to disappoint her. I love her too much for that.” Sherlock said. “And yes, I realise now that might not have been a good idea.” 

“Too bad the press can’t see this; Sherlock Holmes a real softie for his little girl.” John smiled and Sherlock smirked back at him. 

“Aren’t all fathers?” He asked. “She’s even got Mycroft wrapped around her finger.” 

John eventually went to bed, as he had a shift at the hospital early the next morning. Sherlock stayed awake for at least another hour, before deciding to retire for the night. Before going to his room, he made a quick detour to Kate’s room. He opened the door as quietly as possible. Kate was fast asleep, her hair spread on the pillow in a way that would ensure it was tangled in the morning. Her breathing was soft, telling him it was a peaceful sleep. Sherlock took a second to look round her room; a typical teenagers’ room; photos pinned up of her friends and the two of them. Mystery novels and thrillers stacked on the floor with some discarded cloths lying around. He turned his attention back to his sleeping daughter and leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, Darling.” He whispered. As he left the room, he kept the door open ajar so the hall light was visible (she could deny it all she wanted but he knew it made her feel better).


	3. A good dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing okay and that no one is going too crazy. For the time being I still have assignments to complete so I have something to occupy my time. Hopefully this little bit of Parentlock fluff will cheer some readers up. Stay safe and stay inside.

Sherlock Holmes had a complicated history with needles. He sometimes wondered if it was the needles, he was addicted to rather than the drugs. That spike of adrenaline as the needle pierced his skin, introducing the foreign substance into his veins before the rest of the world disappeared and he was lost in his mind. When Kate was a few months old, Sherlock decided he would indulge himself, albeit in a much safer, socially acceptable way. 

“You have a tattoo.” John exclaimed one morning, mouth full of toast. 

“Your observational skills are outstanding Watson.” Sherlock mumbled at he sipped his tea. 

“Just didn’t think you were the type.” He explained. “What is it?" Sherlock signed and rolled his sleeve up to show him the whole thing. Just above the inside of his elbow in bold black ink was a simple KH. John took a closer look and saw a few faint needle marks. Souvenirs from Sherlock’s past. 

“Got it done when she was four months.” Sherlock explained pulling his arm away. “Was a favourite spot of mine, could always find a vein there. If I ever fall off the rail, I’ll see it and remember why I’m clean.” 

“Very sentimental of you.” John teased. The two sat in silence for a moment, before John spoke again. “You’re a good dad you know.” 

“I’m adequate.” 

“No.” John said firmly, causing Sherlock to look at him. “You’re good.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Morning.” Kate yawned as she came into the kitchen, her hair was sticking up in all directions similar to how Sherlock looked in the morning. 

“Morning.” John and Sherlock greeted. Sherlock pushed a mug of tea towards her and kissed her forehead. 

“Any plans today?” Sherlock asked, when she started to wake up after a few sips of tea.

"Not today.” 

“Fancy coming to a crime scene with me?” He asked, a bright smile like he was suggesting a trip to Disney. Kate faced him with her own toothy smile. Even after living with them for a few months now, the way the father and daughter smiled at the thought of a crime scene still sent a chill down his spine. 

“What is it? Double no triple homicide?” She asked excitedly. 

“Just a single I’m afraid but there’s something quite interesting about the scene, at least a six.” He explained.

“You can’t take her to a crime scene.” John argued. 

“The body has been removed.” Sherlock argued. “Molly is going to give us the results later today, we’re going to have a look to see what forensics missed.” 

“Everything of importance I assume.” 

“That’s my girl.” Sherlock smiled at her, patting her head. “We’ll go when your dressed.” 

“I’ll be ready in three.” Kate downed her tea and attempted to stand when Sherlock gently pushed her back into her seat and pushed a plate of toast in front of her. “Digestion slows me down.” 

“You’re still growing. Eat.” 

“You don’t eat on a case.” She pointed out. 

“Do as I say not as I do. Now, eat the toast, have some juice and then get washed and dressed.” Sherlock’s tone left no room for argument, so Kate did as she was told. When she was finally excused from the table, John smirked at his roommate. 

“Like I said, good dad.” 

When the trio arrived the crime scene, there were one or two officers standing around. Recognising the Holmess and John they let them in, no questions asked. The three of them climbed the stairs to the upper levels where the body was found. As they climbed, Sherlock explained how the body had been found early in the morin g by some homeless people who had the good sense to call the police, who then had the better sense to call him. 

“My god, did he do this before he died?” John asked, taking in the room where the body had been found. A whole wall was covered in numbers written in green paint. The paint can had spilt leaving half its contests spreading across the floor reaching for the door. Kate got her phone out and started to take pictures while Sherlock looked around. 

“Looks like Shukodo.” John said. 

“I prefer the crossword.” Kate mumbled. “So, secret code?”

“Possibly, if I had to guess I would say dates and coordinates.” John suggested. 

“Might be right John.” Sherlock mumbled taking a closer look at the wall. His phone vibrated with a text which turned out to be Molly who was able to perform the autopsy on the victim earlier than expected. Kate snapped some more pictures and the three of them made their way to St Barts. 

While Molly talked her way through what she had found, Kate couldn’t help but make some silent deductions while her father and John listened. Her hair was in a stylish braid, new lipstick, much brighter than her usual pink and she was wearing a cute pair of flats rather than her comfy converse for long shifts on her feet. Conclusion; Molly Hooper had a date. It was too early to be dressed like that for an evening date so it would have to be a lunch date. A lunch date that would eventually lead to an evening date which could lead to romance and relationships and possibly marriage and a whole new life with a man who wasn’t her father. Not good, definitely not good. 

“Kate what’d you think?” Sherlock’s voice asked, calling Kate out of her head. 

“What was that?” 

“He overdosed; the concentration was just right too right I suppose.” Molly explained again. “He had loads of marks, so he was hardly an amateur, must have been done deliberately to make it look like an accident.” 

“So, he gives the coordinate and is then killed, but why make him paint the numbers? Why not right them down on paper?” John wondered. 

“The overdoes would have taken some time and the numbers where uneven, he was shaking. Must have been some sick punishment or torture.” 

“Addicts are an interesting type of people.” Sherlock mused, drawing the eyes of the three other people in the morgue. He got out his phone and started texting the information to Lestrade. “Who’s the lunch date with Molly?” He asked not looking up from the screen.

“New paediatrician.” She replied. “He’s nice.” 

“Good, well have fun.” He said quickly, indicating he didn’t want to hear anymore. Molly then excused herself and Sherlock put his phone away, asking if the other were hungry. 

“Was that jealously I heard in your tone Dad?” Kate teased. 

“No, just waiting for the fall out.” Sherlock said.

“Sorry?” John asked. 

“The paediatrician is juggling three long distance relationships.” 

“How could you know that?” 

“Saw how he looked at her the other day with clear interest so I looked into him wasn’t that hard.” He explained, with a look of self-satisfaction. 

“If you don’t feel that way then why bother?” Kate asked, growing annoyed with her father. 

“Can’t have the only competent pathologist getting distracted.”

“How can someone so smart be so stupid? You guys go eat. I’ll see you later.” Kate grabbed her coat and headed out the door without another word. 

“Sherlock.” John said, watching the door close behind her. 

“Not good?”

“Bit not good yeah.” Sometime later the two men found themselves in a café down the road from Barts that served decent coffee and passable food. 

“Why do you care about who she dates?” John asked. 

“She deserves someone who treats her right.” Sherlock explained. 

“So why let her go out with a serial adulterer?”

“This would have been the third date I’d have ruined if I said anything.” Sherlock said as way of explanation. “Even I know that’s not good. Anyway, she’ll figure it out.” 

“Why can’t you ask her out like a normal human being?”

“I’ve been repeatedly told I’m not normal so…” 

“Don’t make me shot you.” 

“I like her.” Sherlock began. “but when I mess up and I know I will, I ruin the closest thing Kate has to a good female role model, besides Anthea.” 

“Mycroft’s PA?”

“Oh, you don’t know do you? She’s his wife. They’ve been married for ten years.”

“I thought she was his PA.”

“She is, but she’s also his wife.” He repeated. “That’s how they met. Surprised they got married, but she insisted.” 

“So, it is possible for a Holmes to be normal.” 

“Mycroft is still Mycroft, he’s just married.” 

“Still possible.” John sipped his tea and then looked back at his friend. “Say you didn’t mess it up and Molly stays in both yours and Kate’s lives, surely the pros out way the cons?”

“It’s not just that, if Molly and I were to be together, she essentially takes on the role of a mother and not everyone is suited for it or wants to be.” Sherlock explained. 

“You don’t think she knows that?”

“I’m a risk taker, but not when it comes to my daughter.” 

“Like I said; good dad.” John smiled mumbled, essentially ending the conversation for the time being. 

Meanwhile, back at the morgue, Molly’s mind wondered at she thought of a certain man. Rather the it being the perfectly nice one she was going to meet later; it was a certain consulting detective who she could have sworn made it his personal mission to make her life difficult. She had known him long enough to know that when she so much as mentioned a date he felt the need to voice his opinion, or deductions, and the fact he did not do so this time worried her. It was times like these that made her wonder how such a rude man could raise such a lovely girl, but Sherlock could be quite charming when he wanted to so there was that. Molly then found herself thinking back to when she first met Kate Holmes. 

Seven Years ago

Molly was close to finishing the paperwork for her most recent autopsy; a simple heart attack. Not the most exciting death but Molly had seen enough murder victims since she started helping Sherlock Holmes that she was happy for the change of pace. As if by magic, her phone started to ring, displaying Sherlock’s name. Before she answered, she took a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart. She and the consulting detective had been working together for a few months now and she had the worst crush on him. 

“Hello Sherlock.” She greeted. 

“Molly.” His soft baritone voice greeted. “Listen, I assume the body from the Themes came in?”

“Yes, I was about to get started why? Are you working the case?”

“Yes, and I was wondering what your policy on children in the morgue was?”

“Children? Oh right, your daughter.” 

“Yes, usually her aunt watches her but she’s unavailable, so is it okay if she comes with me?”

“I don’t know if a morgue is suitable for a child…” 

“It’s sterile” He pointed out “And I promise she won’t touch anything. She’s nine but she’s very well behaved.” Sherlock assured her. “Aren’t you Darling?”

“Yes, Doctor Hopper.” A small voice said. Molly felt her heart skip a beat at the small child’s voice, seemed all the Holmes had this effect on her. 

“Okay, don’t see why not, could be educational.” 

“Exactly what I was thinking.” The relief was clear in his voice. “We’ll be there in ten.” 

Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Kate Holmes came into the morgue. Molly immediately saw the resemblance in their curls. Sherlock looked adorable holding the little girls hand as she took in her surroundings. Where an adult may have found a morgue to be morbid or slightly creepy, the little Holmes seemed fascinated, everything was so shiny and what little girl didn’t love going to work with her farther? 

“Molly, this is my little girl Kate.” Sherlock said proudly, Kate smiled up at the doctor and Molly’s heart melted. “Kate, this is Doctor Hopper that I told you about.” 

“Hell Doctor.” Kate stuck out her hand which Molly happily shock. 

“It’s nice to meet you Kate, but you can call me Molly.” 

“Okay, what’s your cat called?”

“How did you know I have a cat?”

“The fur on your leg.” Kate pointed to it, causing Molly to look surprised and Sherlock to looking proud.

“I’ve been teaching her to make deductions.” Sherlock explained. “Why don’t you tell Molly how you figured it out.” 

“The fur on your leg implies a small pet.” Kate began. “It could be a dog, but since you’re a doctor you must work a lot and a dog needs a lot of attention. So, it has to be a cat because they can be left alone. There are also some claw marks on your hands that are healing which means you also haven’t declawed the cat because you don’t want to cause them any discomfort which makes sense because Daddy says you’re very nice.” 

“His name is Toby.” Molly said once she got over her shock at the little girls’ observations. 

“That’s cute.” 

“That’s very impressive.” Molly turned to Sherlock who smiled broadly. 

“She is isn’t she.” Sherlock patted Kate’s curls which sprung back into place when he took his hand away. “So, shall we get to it?”

“Can I see the body?” Kate asked hopefully 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?”

“Because your Grandmother will kill me if she finds out. We’ll wait for when you’re a teenager.” 

“Fine.” Kate pouted, causing Molly to smile, she truly was Sherlock’s daughter. 

While the adults looked at the body, Kate entertained herself with one of Molly’s old medical books she kept in her office. Turning away from the brightly coloured diagram of the human heart, Kate watched her father work. She tried to listen in, but it seemed the adults where being careful to keep their voices down, conscious of the young child. This slightly irritated Kate as she figured that if she was going to help her father when she got older, she should be learning early but no one else seemed to agree with her. She returned to the diagram and only looked up again when she heard the draw holding the body closing. She closed the book and went to her father who swiftly picked her up and held her in front of a microscope. 

“What do you see?” Sherlock asked her. 

“It’s his blood.” 

“What can you tell from it?”

“I don’t know.” Kate said sadly, Sherlock gave her a quick kiss on the head to reassure her it was alright. 

“That’s okay, I’ll you show you.” He then went on to explain what could be seen from the sample and Kate listened carefully. Once Sherlock had come his own conclusions, he put Kate down and handed her some money for the vending machine. When the door closed behind her, Sherlock got out his phone and texted Lestrade. 

“She’s adorable.” Molly said. 

“Yeah she is.” Sherlock agreed. “What about you?”

“I don’t have kids.”

“I know, I mean are they part of the plan or…?” 

“Oh, right.” Molly blushed. “Um… yes they are, just need to meet the right man.” 

“Well, don’t settle for anything less.” 

“Is that what you’ll tell Kate?”

“Oh no I plan to keep up the myth that boys have quoties for at least a few decades.” Sherlock smiled; Molly returned the smile.

For moment, he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes the world’s only consulting detective who did not quite known when to keep his mouth shut. He was Sherlock Holmes; a regular father who wanted to keep boys away from his little girl for as long as possible. It was then that Kate came rushing in with chocolate which she was only too happy to share. It was safe to say that by the end of the day, Molly Hooper was in love with two Holmess.


	4. Anthea and Kate's day out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers, how is everyone? Looking after yourselves? I have to say if it weren't for fanfiction I would be losing my mind. Hope you're all keeping your spirits up. I know Kudos and reviews help me do that *hint hint*. Take care :)

Anthea Holmes strolled into 221B like she owned the place. Her brother in-law stood in front of the window with his violin playing bit and pieces, telling her he was thinking. His flatmate, Doctor Watson was in his chair with a cup of tea. She liked the doctor; he was a good fit for Sherlock and the fact he refused payment from her husband made her like him even more. 

“Morning gentlemen.” She greeted. “Where’s my favourite niece?”

“She just went to the shop for some tea and biscuits, she’ll be back soon.” Sherlock replied. “Come to your senses yet?”

Anthea smiled and shook her head. For the last decade whenever the two were together he would ask her that; had she finally come to her senses and left Mycroft. Of course, he meant it as a jest, she knew that should anything really go wrong between the couple he would be one of the first to try and make it right. Simply a younger brother wanting to tease his older one. As an only child, Anthea enjoyed watching the banter and she was thankful that Sherlock would engage in the same behaviour with her; she enjoyed having a brother, almost as much as she enjoyed having a niece. 

“Not yet but I have started a new treatment plan, so we’ll see.” She teased. 

“What do you have planned today?” John asked. 

“Lunch, shopping, gossiping about the men in our lives. Typical girl stuff.” She replied before turning to John. “I read your latest blog, it’s very good.”

”Don’t encourage him.” 

“Oh hush, you’re just jealous because your cigar ash list doesn’t have people queuing up.” 

“That’s what I told him.”

Before Sherlock could make a comeback, the door opened, and Kate came in. Before her shopping bag even touched the table, Anthea pulled her out of the flat without so much as a proper greeting and the two hit the streets of London. A few hours later, their arms full of shopping bags and freshly done nails, the two sat in a coffee shop. Their table was tucked in the corner where they observed some of the other customers, Kate practicing some deductions. She was in the middle of deducing a middle-aged woman when their order came. 

“How’s your dad doing with the ‘Sudoku Scandal?” Anthea asked. 

“Is that what John called it? He was killed by another gang member, but the thing is he was paid to do it, but he couldn’t give a name. He was also told to have the guy paint the numbers on the wall, but he doesn’t know what they mean either.” She explained. “It’s driving him crazy.” 

“He’ll figure it out, should spare Mrs Hudson’s wall though.” 

“Amazed she hasn’t kicked us out.” 

“Mycroft probably gave her a tidy sum for the repairs.” Anthea took a bite of her chocolate muffin. “What’s your opinion of the numbers?”

“I was thinking time and coordinates for potential sales”. Before Anthea could respond, a young man came up to their table and smiled at Anthea. 

“Hey, I saw you from over there and thought we could get a coffee ourselves some time, you know when you’re not babysitting or anything.” He pointed to Kate, and gave Anthea, what he believed to be, a charming smile. 

“Well…” Anthea began. 

“Obviously you missed the rather noticeable ring on her finger, just because you are okay with extramarital intercourse does not mean everyone is.” Kate casually sipped her coffee like she talks about the weather. 

“What?”

“There’s a tan line on your ring finger and I can see the outline of your ring in your pocket. There’s a baby formula stain on your shirt, so I assume your new baby is taking up all your wife’s time and instead of helping her, you’re looking for a cheap thrill. You have good taste if you like my aunt, but I should warn you, my uncle is the jealous type and he has quite the…Influential occupation .” The young man gaped at her and Anthea stifled a giggle behind her mug. 

“I would suggest moving on now.” Anthea said. The young man did just that and once he was out of the café, looking quite terrified as he did, Anthea and Kate laughed out loud. 

“Oh, if only your dad had seen that.” 

“He would have been much more brutal I’m sure.”

The two women finished their lunch and then headed outside to where the car waiting for them. While they drove, Kate stared out the window while listening to Anthea talk about the latest office gossip. Half her attention was on her aunt and the other half was trying to memorize the streets of London. She eventually shaped out of it when Anthea called her name. 

“Yes?”

“How’s it going with Molly?”

“My father is an arse.” She replied by way of explanation, still looking out the window. Anthea nodded. 

“Maybe she finds that attractive.” 

“She does, but how long will that last?” Kate signed. Anthea gave her niece a sad smile and squeezed her shoulder, making Kate finally turn to face her. 

“No one ever imagined your dad would be a dad, but he’s surprised us all once, could happen again.”

Kate smiled. The news that Sherlock had gotten someone pregnant, even when high, was not as shocking as it should have been for their family, according to Mycroft it was one of the few mundane things he had when under the influence. What surprised them all was his refusal to give her up like Mycroft suggested. Sarah seemed indifferent to her impending motherhood and just wanted the while thing over with. Sherlock, throw himself into it by reading everything he could and asking the doctors multiple questions, he even kept his deductions to himself at appointments so they could do their jobs properly, he even argued with his mother over how the nursery should be decorated. Her grandparents told her that when he first held her, he was like a new man and his newfound love was obvious. Any doubt that he would change his mind about being a father was forgotten and the family welcomed their new addition and the rest was history.

When the day came to an end, Anthea dropped Kate off at home and wished her goodnight. On her way up the stairs, she ran into Mrs Hudson who was heading out to meet her new ‘gentleman friend’ (who had a wife overseas). Thankfully, she was able to reach the flat without falling prey to Mrs Hudson’s habit of oversharing and dropped her bags in her room before heading to the sitting room where John was typing away. 

“Good day?” He greeted. 

“Very, retail therapy is a godsend.” She replied. 

“God is a fictional being designed to enslave the masses.” Sherlock called from the kitchen.

“He’s why I need the therapy.” Kate teased. “Anything new on the ‘Sudoku Scandal’?”

“Afraid not, Sherlock’s using his homeless network for info, course I don’t know how that will help.”

“They’ve been proven to be effective in the past.” 

At this point Sherlock came in and handed her a takeout menu, telling her to pick something for dinner. While they waited for their food, Kate showed then what she bought and told them about the man in the coffee shop, which amused them both. 

“I’d have loved to have seen that.” John laughed.

“Mycroft has probably already tracked the poor man down.” Sherlock said, a smile forming on his face as he thought of his brother’s aggravation. 

When the food arrived, Sherlock and John began talking about the case (Sherlock refused to call it the ‘Sudoku Scandal’). The victim was a known gang member who been in trouble with the police on multiple occasions but as far as anyone knew he was quite low on the pecking order, so it was unlikely that he know anything worth killing him over. The numbers presented the biggest question. Despite wanting to say up with them, Sherlock sent Kate to bed with a promise that they would continue in the morning. 

“Wake me up if you have an epiphany.” 

“Will do.” He promised her. 

“And don’t shot the wall if you get annoyed.” 

“No promises.” 

In her room, Kate changed into her pyjamas and took out a file from her draw. It contained copies of the notes and reports that her father would be looking at. She often made copies like these when her father was working a particularly difficult case. If her father new she did this, he didn’t comment. She took out the enlarged coy of the photo she took of the wall. At first, she believed them to be dates and coordinates of possible future drug sales, but if they were coordinates, they would not be ideal meeting paces as some of them would put a person in the middle of the River Themes or even Buckingham Palace. At least point she was starting to think it has nothing to do with drugs.

Perhaps the victim was killed simply because he was the first person his killer thought of?

Maybe all this was to get attention? 

But for who?


	5. School and Chocolate

The sound of violins woke Kate the next morning. Rather then being an actual piece, it was a string of random notes, suggesting he was going through the motions of playing rathe then the actual act. She looked at the phone and saw she had another twenty minutes until her alarm went off, so she buried herself under the blankets. Half an hour later she was washed and dressed, ready to leave for school. Sherlock was in front of the window playing and John had already left for the clinic. 

After a quick breakfast of tea and toast, she said goodbye to her dad and headed to school. Kate quite enjoyed school, see got on well with her teachers and had a nice little group of friends who found her amateur deductions entertaining.

It was a typical Monday morning and was soon lunch time. She met her friends at their usual table. Kelly Matthews, Daniel Myers and Adam Parker had been her friends for as long as she could remember. It was strong enough for a Holmes to have one friend, let alone three, her uncle didn’t know if he should be impressed or disappointed and Sherlock was quiet found of them all. Where adults shunned him, teenagers seemed to really like him. 

“Hey Homie.” Kelly greeted, patting he bench next to her. 

“Hey guys.” 

“How’s your dad and the new doctor getting on?” Adam asked. 

“Yeah they’re good, but he’s not the doctor I want him to get on with.” 

“Why are you so desperate for a mum? Let me tell you two dads are where it’s at.” Kelly argued. Kelly had been adopted when she was a few weeks old by her dads. When they were in primary school, the class was making Mother’s day cards and being the only two in the class who didn’t have a mother, they were put on a separate table with another task to do. They had been friends ever since. 

“I am not desperate for a mum; I just don’t want him to be alone.” 

“He could always get that dog he wants.” Daniel pointed out. “Anyway, he’s got the blogger now so isn’t that okay?”

“They could be Johnlock.” Kelly said. The other three looked at her with confused expressions. “Their shipping name.” 

“John’s not gay.” 

“Just saying, it’d be cute.” 

“Anyway.” Adam began. “Any inside info on a case?” 

“Nothing that isn’t in the blog, sorry guys.” 

“What’s the point of being friends with a consulting detective’s kid if they can’t tell you anything?”

“Sorry to be such a disappointment, let’s talk about something else.” 

“Oh, but gang murders are so much more interesting.” Adam argued with a pout.

“You sound just like him.” Daniel laughed.

The rest of the day passed like any other school day and soon Kate was inside 221B, violin music greeting her, like it did that morning. She wondered if her father had even moved from that spot all day. When she reached the living room, Sherlock had stopped playing and was now lying on the couch, but he wasn’t in his mind palace. When she dropped her bag on the floor he sat up. 

“Can I borrow your phone?” He asked in a way of greeting. 

“Why?”

“John blocked me again.” He stretched his hand out and she reluctantly handed him the phone. He quickly started texting and the handed it back. 

“Who’s divorced and addicted to cosmetic surgery?” She asked, reading what he had sent. “Why did he block you?” 

“John’s new internet date.” He replied. “They’re going out tonight and he got annoyed with me.” 

“What you going to be like when I date?” Sherlock looked at her like she started speaking a new language. 

“What do you mean ‘when’? You’re never dating.” 

“Just because you are content to be alone, does not mean we all are.” 

“Romantic entanglements, although satisfying for some…” 

“Blah, blah, blah, sentiment is bad, blah, blah, blah losing side.” Kate teased him, even going as far as to copying his ‘mind palace’ pose. 

“And they call me rude.” Sherlock said mock offense. “Since it’s the two of use tonight, what do you want to do? We haven’t had much time just us in a while.” 

“We could work on the case.” She suggested. This made Sherlock laugh.

“I was thinking movies and chocolate, but okay.”

“We can do both.” A wide smile resembling her father’s. 

“That works.” He got up and handed her his wallet. “Nothing with nougat and I hate…”

“Mint, yeah I know we’ve been doing this almost my whole life.” She called out after snatching his wallet and heading out the door. He went to the window and watched her head   
out. 

Maybe filling her up with sugar and saturated fat was not the best parenting move he could make but considering his history he could do worse. In the early years when they lived with his parents, his mother would often scold him for his actions but then he would point out he’d seen her give her extra cookies, so she couldn’t talk. 

“I’m a Granma, It’s my job.” She’d say and then leave them to it. He remembered one experiment they did when she was six. 

Ten years ago

“This will be the single most important experiment you ever do in your life.” Sherlock said to a six-year-old Kate, who was standing straight like a solider listening to their drill Sargent. “This will take everything you have; you will not be the same after this.” He knelt down so he was eye level, wanting to make sure she understood how dire the situation was. “Are you ready?”

“Sir, yes sir.” Kate saluted. The father daughter duo turned their attention to the kitchen table. It was covered in chocolate bars, at least one of every kind Next to the pile was a notebook with different categories to be tested; sweetness, after taste, sugar, texture etc. 

“Today we answer the oldest question; which chocolate is best?” 

“I was born for this.” Kate said, her eyes lighting up as she turned to her father. “You’re the coolest dad ever.” 

“I know.” He said casually. 

The next hour, they ate their fill of chocolate and made their notes. Dairy milk was a favourite so far, dark was too bitter, caramel was okay but too sweet, neither were a fan of mint so they put that aside for Mycroft and they both loved ones that had bubbles. When Mrs Holmes came in, she did a double take and her mouth almost hit the floor at the sight of her son and grandchild.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a tone that seemed to be reserved only for mothers. 

“It’s an experiment.” They answered in unison. 

“To find what? Which one of you can get diabetes first?” 

“Seems unlikely, it’s only been an hour.” Sherlock pointed out.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, don’t test me.” She pushed. 

“I’ve seen you give her extra cookies.” He pointed out. Her mouth snapped closed and she stared daggers at her son while her granddaughter giggled.

“I’m a Gran ma, I can do that stuff.” She huffed before heading to the sitting room.

“Ohhh, full name, you’re in trouble.” Kate whispered when she was put of earshot. 

“If I go down, I’m taking you with me.” He whispered back, pointing a finger at her. “Pass me the Galaxy.” 

The sound of the door opening and closing, brought Sherlock back to the present. When she came in, Kate emptied the bag on the floor and tossed his wallet on the chair. She sat crossed leg and Sherlock came to join her, a near perfect replica of that day ten years ago. 

“Pass me the Galaxy.”


	6. Day Off

“This is a very bad idea, Sherlock.” John said, eyes on the grounds trying not to trip on any debris.

“That seems to be your catch phrase of late.” 

“I’m still questioning your decisions to bring Kate.” John continued. 

“I don’t mind coming.” Kate said cheerily, as if they were going out for some kind of treat, but then again this was to her. 

“How did you spend your day off John?” He began in a sarcastic voice. “Well, I stalked around an abandoned building with my sociopath flatmate and his daughter, who I swear is worse than him, in the hopes of coming across… something. What did you do?” 

“Are you quite done with the dramatics, John?”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed. 

“You can’t say we don’t keep things interesting.” Kate said. “And we will know when we find it.” 

“Take a leaf out of her book, John; optimism.” 

“If we have to run, I will leave you both and save myself.” 

“No, you won’t; you’re a solider and a doctor. It’s like, impossible for you to not help people ” Kate argued. 

“First time for everything.” John mumbled. And they continued their search for… whatever it was. 

They climbed two flights of stairs, shining lights in every corner. Sherlock explained earlier that some members of his homeless network has seen some suspicious looking people hanging around, and not the usual ‘druggie suspicious’, which in Sherlock’s mind meant ‘let’s go take a look’. They were currently making their way through an abandoned office building that London seemed to have forgotten about but the homeless had not; used syringes, leftover food wrappers and soiled sleeping bags. A shiver ran down Kate’s spin, her dad had told her all about his addict days, so she knew he must have been in a place like this at one point or another but right now wearing his bellstaff and suit, it was hard to imagine him ever fitting into a place like this.

“I think I got something.” John called. He shone his torch on a wall where there were more painted numbers, this time in bright yellow paint and seemed to glow in the dark. Kate began to take pictures while Sherlock got closer. He picked at the paint with his nail and mumbled to himself. 

“This paint seems to be older; this wall may have been painted before the first one we found.” He explained. “This was painted on with a brush through, the width of the numbers is wider, and you can see the lines from the bristles.”

“So, we’re not looking for another body?” John asked.

“Probably not, if this was painted first then that would suggest whoever was behind it, wanted us to find the first one that was actually the second one and then this one which is actually the first one, I’d wager there is a third one.” Sherlock replied. “What you think?”

“That my friends are going to love this addition to the ‘Shukodo Scandal’?” Kate suggested, ignoring her father’s glare. 

“John?” 

“Maybe this will help us make sense of the other wall.” John turned to Kate. “Your friends read my blog?”

“My friends love your blog.”

“Congratulations John; you have captured the minds of hormone driven adolescents. Can we focus?”

“You like my friends.” 

“Yes, but they are what they are; now can we focus on the wall?” 

Kate took some more pictures and they explored another floor but found nothing, so they headed back to Baker Street. When they got back in, John went to call his new girlfriend to try to set a date up for that evening. 

“How long do you think this one will last?” Kate asked.

“Another week.” He replied. “He’ll break it off.” 

“He seems to like her?”

“He’s trying too hard, keeps talking about how nice she is, seems forced.” 

“What do you know about romantic relationships?” 

“I know people and I know when someone is trying too hard.” 

Before Kate could respond, John called out he was meeting… what’s her name? and headed out the door. Sherlock picked up his violin and mumbled something about three days before he began to play. Sherlock played for a few hours while Kate studied, before John came back in. He sat in his chair and let out a load, frustrated sigh. 

“She dump you?” Sherlock asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Apparently, I’m too nice, why do women complain about that? First, they talk about all the nice guys being taken, then they meet one and then it’s too much. What is wrong with them?” He ranted. While he talked, Kate made him a cup of tea and handed it to him. He mumbled his thanks and took a calming sip. “I’m a doctor and a solider; two of the most attractive careers there are, should I be an arse to them, like…” He gestured to Sherlock, who shrugged. 

“My life is much less complicated.” Sherlock reasoned. “I solve cases, raise my daughter and drink tea; all is well.” 

“Nearly everyone you meet wants to punch you.” John pointed out. 

“That doesn’t bother me.” 

“I don’t know why I’m talking to you; the only successful relationship you have with a member of the opposite sex is Kate.” 

“What wrong with that? You know how many fathers have horrible relationships with their daughters? They’d kill for what we have.” Kate argued. She raised her hand for a high five, but Sherlock shook his head and she dropped it, clearly disappointed. 

“Look John, some women are weird about nice guys but one day you’ll meet someone who really wants a nice guy and you’ll be perfect for them.” Kate assured him. “And if the worst happens, you and dad can live as bachelors here.” John’s eyes grew wide like a deer caught in headlights at the thought. 

“I would rather go back to the war then let that happen.” John said. “Maybe I should try Tinder.” 

“No.” Sherlock said simply. 

“Why?”

“It’s essentially hook up app and I’m not too fond of the idea of a load of one-night stands coming and going through the flat.” He explained. “But if you can promise to only go to their homes, that would work.” 

“Oh, good lord, I’m going to die alone.” John cried as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to grow old and die right here in this chair and Sherlock won’t notice until someone points out the smell to him.” 

“He’s not that obliviouse.” Kate argued. 

“He asked me for a pen once and didn’t notice I had been out for hours.” 

“I am still here.” 

“Sorry Dad and John don’t be ridiculous. I think he’ll die before you anyway, he pisses off a lot of people and it’s really only a matter of time until Molly snaps.” 

“I get this weird look when she gives me coffee.” 

“Anyway, everything will work out, so don’t worry.” She assured him, before heading for the kitchen. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes until John spoke up.

“You know the look is because she’s actually asking you out, not just for coffee, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You going to take her up on it anytime soon or…” He trailed off. 

“Lovely weather isn’t it?” Sherlock tried. John sighed and turned his attention to the paper.


	7. Sherlock and a baby

All crimes scenes where distressing on some level. Even for someone who had seen war like John, who would not see himself as a man of stone but there were very few things that could distress him. But it did not matter how strong you were or what you had been through; the cries of a distressed baby could get at anyone. 

Sherlock tried at first to ignore the cries so he could focus on what happened to her mother, but the sight of the poor officer (clearly fresh out the academy and little to no experience with babies) set off his own parental instincts and he offered to hold the baby. Clearly thankful to be relived of the job and knowing who he was, the young officer handed them over. Sherlock took a moment to adjust the baby comfortably and gently swayed, patting their back. Whispering assurance that everything would be okay. John smiled at his friend, of course he knew Kate didn’t come out the womb a fully formed teenager and he had heard from Anthea that he was really hands on despite living with his parents at the time, but actually seeing him interact with an infant in such a natural manner was still surprising. Sherlock continued to make his deductions while he comforted the baby in a way only a parent could manage. 

“It seems like a hit and run, not professional as they would have done it when she wasn’t with the child to avoid collateral.” 

“Amazing she wasn’t hurt.” John said, stroking said child’s cheek when she calmed down. 

It was then a car pulled up and a young man came rushing out before the car came to a stop. He made a beeline for Sherlock and reached for the baby. Sherlock took a moment to deduce the man and once he concluded he was no threat, he passed the baby over. Lestrade came over and started questioning the father who, at most, answered with one or two words while he bounced the baby in a way that only seemed to undue all the comforting Sherlock had done. It was then Sherlock deduced that this was a man who left most of the child rearing to his wife. He was half tempted to take the child back, but that would have been not good, so he kept himself in check while Lestrade finished questioning him. It seemed the victim was a stay at home mother and would never hurt anyone. Once they were finished and the distraught family was sent home, Lestrade turned to Sherlock who explained that the man may have been a useless parent, he was no killer. The detective inspector signed and told them he would look into the victim before sending them home. 

“You okay?” John asked. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.” Sherlock signed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Now that he didn’t have to focus so much of his energy on his mental abilities his body was beginning to feel weary. It seemed the years were starting to catch up with him. “I need to see my baby.” 

“She hates it when you call her that.” John laughed, as they made their way to the street to get a cab. 

“I’m the parent, I’ll do what I want.” 

“What do you think about the case?”

“The husband was genuinely distressed, and I doubt he would risk the baby, so that’s out. Could have been a mistake in identity or she did manage to piss someone off.” Sherlock replied with his eyes closed, resting against the cab window.

“It pretty good how you calmed her down.”

“Any parent worth their nappy money can do the sway, it’s all about paying attention to the baby’s need.” He replied. “Kate just liked to be held, if she didn’t need something she’d go straight to sleep. Mummy said it was my heartbeat.” 

“That’s cute.”

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.” 

They soon arrived at Baker Street and the two headed up to the flat, careful not to make too much noise. While John went straight to his room, Sherlock went to the kitchen. He found a note Kate had left saying she and Mrs Hudson had had dinner together, and there where leftovers for him. The words ‘Please eat’ was in capitals and underlined twice. Tossing the note over his shoulder Sherlock took out the leftovers (some pasta dish) and heated it up. He ate, left the plate on the table for someone else (John) to take care of and went to Kate’s room. The sight of her wrapped up in her blankets sent a wave of relief over him. Even after all this time, he could never understand why he felt this way sometimes. Whenever a case involved a young person or even a grown woman who remined him of her, it seemed to lead to this tight feeling in his chest that would only go away when he could actually see she was alright. Sherlock typically scoffed at sentiment, but he could see the benefits to the parental side of it. In the early months, Mycroft tried to argue that the best course of action should be adoption. 

“Before you get too attached.” He said one afternoon. Sherlock handed him an envelope from his coat pocket. 

“Too late for that.” He said as Mycroft opened the envelope; it was a sonogram. Adoption was never mentioned again. 

The next morning while John read the paper, Sherlock was on his laptop typing away. Kate came in and asked how last night was. Sherlock went on to explain the hit and run and a few new theories he had through the night which then prompted Kate to ask if he had slept, he was quite after that. John hid a grin behind his paper; which one was the parent again? 

“Okay if I have the others around later for a study session?” Kate asked, halfway out the door, slice of toast in hand.

“Don’t see why not as long as actual studying is involved.” Sherlock turned to John. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah, would like to meet some of my readers.” John replied in a teasing tone. 

Goodbyes were said and good days wished as Kate gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek and called out ‘love you’ and she rushed out the flat, barely hearing her father’s ‘you too.’ It was mornings like these that John liked best; watching the two of them interact, seeing Sherlock act like an actual human being. Most people would probably feel like an outsider but not him; Sherlock had seemed to take a shine to him, much to the surprise of just about everyone, and Kate was very welcoming, her dad liked him, so she did too. Some evenings the three of them would eat take out and watch crap tele, it was like his uni days with his old house mates. There were even times he and Kate would gang up on Sherlock, laughing at the look of betrayal on his face. The two of them reminded him of why he went to war in the first place, so people could have moments like this; pure bliss and peace. It had been a while since he was able to have a moment like that himself. 

Once the men were ready, they headed over to St Barts to see about a body that been brought in during the night. Molly had texted saying that something had come up on the blood tests that he would want to have a look at. It seemed it had not been death by natural cause as was first believed, Lestrad was called and it was recommended that he look into the victim’s life insurance policy. The day was also spent looking into the death of the mother, who it turned out had managed to piss someone off. It seemed the poor housewife had racked up some debt from online gambling, a past time her husband was not aware of. A loan shark she went to, got impatient and decided to take matters into his own hands. A couple of cases solved over text, chips for lunch, all and all a productive day. It seemed the wall may be spared for the night. In the cab of the way home, Sherlock received a text. 

“Kate’s friends have arrived, I would recommend hiding in your room.” 

“Well she says they’re fans of my blog, I’d like to meet them.” John teased. 

“Four teenagers, just saying.” Sherlock warned. The driver was paid and the two made their way into the flat. Kelly, Kate, Adam and Daniel were sat in the living room textbooks open but ignored. They were talking about some recent school gossip when Sherlock and John came in, with the former ignoring the group. 

“Hey, you must be John.” Kelly smiled. 

“Yes, and you are?”

“Kelly Matthews, Daniel Myers and Adam Parker.” Sherlock replied not looking up from his phone.

“Hello to you too Mr Holmes.” Daniel said. 

“We’re the hormone driven adolescents that read your blog.” Adam explained, eyeing Sherlock, who continued typing. “And would like to stay for dinner if that’s okay?”

“Fine. John you going to join us?”

“Sounds good.” John then moved to the desk and took his laptop. It was then he felt three new pairs of eyes on him. “Yes…?”

“Are you writing in the blog?” 

“Do you have a new lead?”

“Do anyone of you read my blog?” Sherlock asked. 

“Oh yeah, I read you ash list when I can’t sleep.” Kelly said. “Puts me to sleep like that.”

“Why do I let you in here?” Sherlock mumbled, heading to the kitchen.

“You love us really.” Adam called after him. Sherlock scoffed, hiding a smirk. True be told he was actually quite fond of his daughter’s little gang. Obviously at the very mention of their names, Mycroft did through background checks to make sure no one was part of some drug cartel or what not. Once everyone came back clean it was all sleepovers and study sessions (minus any actually studying in of course). The evening was spent eating take out and the kids questioning them on the case, while John happily answer their questions. Sherlock would put his two cence in every once in a while. It really did seem that John got on with everyone, or perhaps hormone driven adolescents were easier than most people made them out to be. When it got too late, Sherlock sent the guests home in cabs and left the containers for someone else to clean up. The three residents did not feel tired yet, so they settled in front of the tele. John soon fell asleep, but the Holmes stayed awake. Kate lay with her head in Sherlock’s lap, while he stroked her hair. Despite the other cases he had solved that day, the hit and run from the night before seemed to sick with him. Perhaps it was the child. The memory of her cries, not fully understanding what she had lost. 

The night he got the call saying Sarah had died from an overdose, Kate was in bed but the next day she just cried. His practical mind told him that there was no way she knew what was going on. Perhaps she could read the sorrow on everyone’s faces. From such a young age she not only saw but she observed. As he continued to stroke her hair, Kate soon fell asleep curled up in his lap. He switched the tele off and went into his mind palace; cataloguing and deleting while his own daughter slept soundly, protected from the dangers of the outside world. For now.


	8. Stomach Bug

It was some time before there would be a break in the ‘Sudoku Scandal’. During which Sherlock and John entertained themselves with far less interesting cases and the clinic. Kate, spent her time looking over her own makeshift files in the hopes of seeing something her father had not (unlikely but she could hope). She found herself growing frustrated with the lack of new leads. 

It was one such evening that her vison began to blur, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. Her stomach then began to feel funny. She made her way to the bathroom in time to empty the contents of her stomach. With the ringing in her ears, she did not hear her name being called from the other side of the door. As she tried to get her bearings right, which was no easy task as the room was suddenly spinning, the door opened, and a glass of water was handed to her. She took a cautious sip as the same hand felt her sweaty forehead. Somehow the water was finished, and she made her way back to bed where a bucket was placed. Completely forgetting about her notes, she was dead to the world. 

A few hours later, Kate woke to soft voices. She downed the water that had been left out, only just realising how dry her throat was. As her mind began to clear she was able to make out what the voices were saying; John seemed to be reassuring her father it was just a simple case of food poisoning and he shouldn’t worry so much, to which her father replied, ‘I’ll remember that for when you have children.’ Kate closed her eyes and lay back down, when she heard the door open. Recognising her father’s presence, she didn’t bother opening her eyes. 

“How you feeling?” 

“Could be better.” She replied hoarsely. “What time is it?” 

“Early, I’ll call the school later, tell them your indisposed.” 

“That’s one way of looking at it.” She groaned, feeling more pathetic by the minute. 

“I’ll text Lestrade, let him know I’m unavailable today.” 

“What if something important comes up?”

“More important than my sick daughter? Unlikely.” 

Before heading out to the clinic, John gave her another look over, once again assuring Sherlock it was nothing to worry about; a little rest and hydration, she’d be fine. After failing to keep a slice of dry toast down, Kate went back to sleep, while Sherlock experimented in the kitchen. An hour or so later, Lestrade forced his way into the flat, before Sherlock could scold him, he shoved his phone in Sherlock’s face. It was then that he saw what was so important. 

“Is that...?” 

“Blood.” Lestrade confirmed. “We’re guessing at least two pints where used and the rest was on the floor around the body.” Sherlock studied the picture and Lestrade could see that he was torn about what to do, neither of them noticed Kate come in. 

“Dad you should go.” 

“Absolutely not, you haven’t been able to keep anything down and Mrs Hudson is out for the weekend.”

“John?” Lestrade suggested. 

“Clinic.” Sherlock signed, the frustration clear on his face. His expression changed when an idea came to him, but he still didn’t seem certain of it. “Let me try something, if it works out, I’ll come if not, I’ll tackle it later.” 

In her flat, Molly sat on her couch curled up with Toby in her lap. With it being her day off, she spent an extra hour in bed and was dressed in comfy leggings and a large jumper that reached just above her knees. She planned to spend the day going over some paperwork and catching up on some crap tele. When her phone rang, she was almost tempted to ignore it until she caught a glimpse of the name. She took a deep breath and silently prayed he wasn’t asking (demanding) she come in.

“Hello Sherlock.”

“Molly.” For a second she thought he sounded relived. “Look I know it’s your day off, but I have a favour to ask, an actual favour that I will pay back.” 

“Yes?”

“Could you come to Baker Street and watch Kate for me? She seems to have food poisoning and there has been another murder involving those number.” He explained. “She’ll just sleep so you can still do whatever, I just don’t want her alone.” Molly smiled at his words, this man who tried so hard to come across as a machine, without emotion, was concerned about leaving his sick daughter alone. Molly being who she was would happily agree to his request and the fact it was him asking made her happier to do so. 

“Sherlock, relax I’ll come over.” She assured him. 

“Thank you.” 

They hung up and Molly collected the paperwork she would need. She put on her coat and boots, checked Toby had food and water and made her way out. She arrived at Baker Street soon after and was greeted by Sherlock and Lestrade. Sherlock seemed to smile brightly at her which made her blush. 

“You look nice.” He complimented, seeming genuine about it. 

“Well I wasn’t planning on going anywhere…”

“Still look nice.” He assured her with a smile before turning serious. “Okay, she’s asleep right now. Don’t worry about getting her to eat that hasn’t worked so well so far. If she wakes up, make sure she drinks some water. Kitchen is stocked thanks to John, she’s dead to the world but if you could keep the volume down on the tele…”

“Sherlock she’s a doctor.” Lestrade reminded him. 

“She works with corpses, so you’ll forgive me.” Sherlock snapped at the Inspector before turning to Molly. “Not that I doubt your abilities.” 

“Keep her hydrated and keep the noise down, I got it.” She assured him.

“Thank you.” Sherlock gave her a kiss on the cheek before getting his coat on. “Don’t know how long we’ll be but I’ll text you. She knows you were coming so she’ll expect you. See you later.” With that the two headed out the flat. 

First off, she went to check on Kate who was fast asleep and then went to make herself a cup of tea. She settled on some TV drama and got back to her paperwork. An hour or so later, she heard a door open and Kate came in to sit down in her father’s chair. She didn’t seem to notice Molly at first, so she went back to her papers, used to the strange behaviour of the Holmes line. 

“How long has Dad been out?” She finally asked, not taking her eyes off the screen. 

“An hour, haven’t heard anything so he’s probably alright.” Molly replied. “Do you want a drink?”

“Dad didn’t give you instruction to force it down my throat?” She teased, causing Molly to giggle.

“No, just keep you hydrated, but if you’re too difficult I will do that.” With a chuckle, she went to the kitchen and then came back with a glass of water which Kate accepted with a weak smile. They sat in silence for a moment. 

“Anything interesting?” She asked, gesturing to the stake on the table. 

“No, just old age and disease.” 

“Death, age and disease; three things we can never truly escape. Dull.” Kate mumbled, turning her attention back to the screen so she didn’t see Molly’s smirk. It truly amazed her how similar the two could be at times, she almost expected her to start shooting at the wall in boredom. She was able to get two more glasses of water down her before Kate fell asleep again in the chair. Later in the afternoon Molly received a text saying he would be back soon, and he’d bring her some chips. She thanked him and warned him Kate would probably still be asleep. 

When he came in, for once in his life, Sherlock actually made an effort to be quiet. Molly joined him in the kitchen, and they ate their chips only talking in soft whispers. Molly told him about her files and had to stop herself from laughing out loud when he complained about them being too dull. 

“She said the same thing.” 

“I’ve trained her well.” He said proudly, glancing over at her in his chair. 

“It’s amazing how similar you are, not just in looks just… everything else.”

“Yeah.” Sherlock nodded. “Worries me some times, that she might be too much like me. I have been known to cause trouble for myself.” 

“Well, I think she’s wonderful.” Molly assured him. 

“She thinks the same of you.” Sherlock said, keeping his eyes on his food. He didn’t need to see her face to know she was turning red. He always found her blush to be quite adorable, not that he would ever admit that outload. She really did look quite lovely when she came in and he wished he could have stayed but Kate was insistent he went to the crime scene. When the time came for Molly to leave, he helped her with her coat (Mummy would be proud) And thanked her again. 

“I’ve asked the autopsy to be postponed until you were available tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Mike had told him that Molly, despite being their best, was not the only pathologist they had. To which Sherlock replied, if you can’t have the best why bother. 

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” Molly smiled at him. “You know you scare the others?”

“But not you?” He teased. 

“I think I just know you too well.” Molly giggled, looking at her boots. “You’re not as intimidating as you would like people to think.” 

“Dame, I’ll need to work on that, I’ve grown soft.” She giggled again and for a moment he was tempted to lean over and kiss her cheek or place a piece of hair behind her ear, anything that would involve touching in her in some way, even if it was for a second. 

“Nothing wrong with that. So, I should…” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” They said their goodbyes and Molly got into the taxi waiting outside (how did he do that?) When the door closed behind him, Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. 

“Smooth real smooth. Should have kissed her.” He looked up and saw Kate sitting in on stairs smirking at him. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

“Shouldn’t you have kissed her?” 

“Oh you know, sick kid upstairs, kills the mood.” He teased. 

“So there was a mood?” 

“There was… something.” 

“She’d say yes if you asked her.” 

“Oh you must be sick you sound delusional.” Sherlock climbed up the stairs and gently pushed her back into the flat, instead of going to her room she went to the living room and settled back into his chair. Sherlock grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her like a butterfly’s cocoon, rubbing his nose against hers like when she was little, causing her to  
giggle. 

“How was the case?”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you feel better.”

Deciding she was too tired to argue the pair settled down and watched some reruns of Jeremy Kyle, occasionally shouting at the screen; “Look at her hair, of course she cheated’ or ‘of course he’s not the father, look at his jeans.’ 

“You know if the detective thing doesn’t work out, you should get a show.” Kate suggested, before yawning loudly. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Sherlock mumbled, appearing to grow tired himself. 

The father and daughter were fast sleep when John finally came home from the clinic. He checked Kate’s temperature without waking and seemed satisfied she was alright. He turned to Sherlock who was softly snoring. All these months they had lived together he had only seen the detective actually sleep a hand full of times. He looked strangely human and ordinary, and less of a dick. He looked almost childlike when he slept. He dreaded to think about what he would be like if he didn’t have Kate, she seemed to humanise him to a certain extent, he was still a dick, but he could have been worse. He enjoyed living with the two of them and was thankful he ran into Mike that day.

Before meeting the Holmes family, he felt lost, like he was adrift in the sea. They each gave him something he needed to move past his injury. The clinic provided him with structure, but their cases gave him the taste of adrenaline and excitement he truly needed but could never admit until it was pointed out to him (Mycroft). The thrill of the chase that came from their cases and the satisfaction that came from a solved case (Sherlock). Kate even gave him something he needed, being around someone who had never really known suffering but had still been through her own trials that had shaped her. She had an aura of innocence and ignorance that most people her age had, and despite knowing she would one day lose both, as was the way life worked, he wanted to keep that part of her safe, try to preserve that little bit of light inside her. With Sherlock as her father and her interest in his work, who knows how long she would have. The three of them gave him something he really needed to be happy in his new life; clarity (Mycroft), adventure (Sherlock) and something new to protect (Kate). He would never tell them this of course, he'd never hear the end of it.


	9. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I've got the rest of this story mapped out now. I should really do that before I start writing but sometimes I get too excited, so please keep the comments and kudos coming. Happy reading.

Toast had never tasted so good. Kate was on her second portion as she listened to Sherlock explain what he saw at the crime scene the day before. You would think all this talk of blood and murder would be inappropriate for breakfast, but this was the Holmes’s (and Watson) residence. John had left early that morning to cover a shift at the clinic which left the two of them. While Kate ate, Sherlock told her about what he got up to yesterday. You didn’t need a pathologist to tell you how much blood would be missing from the body as a good amount was on the wall and the floor. Forensics where useless as the location was another popular drug den, DNA and fingerprints galore. There had to be a second person there as forensics found paintbrush fibres in the blood used on the wall, seemed unlikely the victim would do that to himself. Background came back quickly, victim was another homeless addict. 

“I’m starting to think that’s the only thing they have in common.” Sherlock paused to take a sip of his tea. “Maybe whoever is doing this didn’t care about the victims themselves, as long as the numbers are noticed.” 

“Maybe they got paid off or something.” She suggested. 

“Probably, addicts will take money for anything. Some of us have boundaries through.” His tone was so nonchalant that it somehow annoyed her. 

“Dad.” 

“Love, I’m an addict that’s the way it is. I know these people because I am one.” He explained. Before she could say something, his phone went off, he took a second to read the text and then looked back at her. “Molly’s about to do the autopsy, she’ll text when she’s done. What to join me?”

“Always.” 

They made idle chatter (the only person he would willing engage in such conversation with) for a while until Molly texted saying she was ready for them. By then they were both ready and caught a cab over to the hospital. They strolled into the morgue like they owned the pace. After a quick greeting and a recap on Kate’s condition, Molly got right to it, pulling back the cover on the body. 

“So, toxicology found alcohol and drugs in his system which made him pretty docile.” She began. “Massive blood loss as you can expect but here’s the interesting thing; there are multiple cuts on the body which were all pretty deep, but they avoided major arteries, so they wanted him alive for a while.” 

“Keep the heart working so it could pump more blood for the numbers.” Sherlock summarised. 

“Exactly, there is also blunt force trauma to the head, so my guess is that was done in order to finish him off, but it is likely the blood loss would have done that anyway.” She continued. “With all drugs and the blood loss he would have been too weak to fight them off.” 

“So are we looking for a doctor?” Kate asked. 

“Not necessarily, would take a little research to know where to avoid.” Molly explained, peeling off her gloves and closing the draw. “Then again the artery would have caused a major bleed so would they not have wanted that?”

“Maybe they liked the extra element of torture?” Sherlock suggested. “Still so much we don’t know about this case.”  
“That annoys you doesn’t it?” Kate asked with an amused smile.  
“Intrigue is a better word.” He turned to Molly. “Can I have at look at the blood?”  
“Sure.” 

While Molly went back to her actual job, Sherlock and Kate (mostly Sherlock) conducted their own tests on the blood sample. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Molly, but he preferred to make his own conclusions on what he had seen. While he did that, Kate decided to do a little research of her own; looking into codes which used number to see if she could find something that could be useful. So far nothing but she was persistent. Some time later, when Sherlock asked for coffee, Kate volunteered so Molly could keep working. She decided to take a walk and headed to a café close to the hospital rather than simply going to the hospital canteen, eager for a little fresh air. 

Despite feeling much better, all that talk of blood and the chemicals in the morgue (despite being perfectly safe) seemed to be making her stomach feel uneasy. She must have still been a little under the weather if talk of blood was getting to her. She was glad that her dad dedicated so much attention to his tests because she would hate for him to send her home when they could be close to a breakthrough. Giving the barrister her order then she arrived (black with two sugars, white with caramel and a banana milkshake), she observed the other customers. Students with lab tops, finishing an all-nighter and in need of a boast. An older woman in a fancy stripped suit who was bordering on functioning alcoholic and would most likely put a little something extra in her coffee before heading to work; all of which would be called ‘boring’ by her dad. What really caught her attention was the middle-aged couple sitting by the window, holding hands. Their rings were old but polished, probably family heirlooms. Then woman’s hair was dyed as there were grey roots coming in whereas the man seemed to be accepting old age as he proudly sported his. Their smiles and laughs seemed genuine, they had been together for so long, but they didn’t seem bored of each other. He must have said something particularly amusing, because she let out a high pitch sequel and then quickly covered her mouth when she realised, she was being too loud. He then took her hand and kissed it, causing her to giggle, it was then that her order was called. Pulling her eyes way from the couple she collected the drink and went on her way. 

On her way back to the hospital, she thought of how adorable the couple was and hoped there could come a day where she would feel that way with someone (after they had passed multiple background checks). But there was plenty of time for that, right now the only love life she was concerned with was her dad’s. No matter what he said, there was a moment yesterday. She wasn’t asking for intense flirting or anything, they were working on a murder investigation after all, but something was better than nothing. Hopefully he had been too engrossed in his work to say anything insulting. When she finally got back to the morgue, there didn’t seem to be any change which was both good and bad. 

“That took a while.” Sherlock commented, accepting his coffee, while Molly actually said thank you before going to her office to use the computer. 

“Went to an actual café.” She explained. “Anything?”

“Drugs and alcohol, wouldn’t have been able to fight a kitten.”

“Just like Molly said.” She couldn’t help but smirk. Sherlock eyed her while he took a careful sip. 

“Not like I doubted her, just like to be thorough.” He argued. “Does this have anything to do without ‘moment’? You have that look on your face.” 

“I know you’re working and so is she, but maybe when this is solved…” She trailed off, hoping he would catch her meaning. 

“Maybe, key word being maybe, but only when this is solved.” He pointed a finger at her in a way that would normally intimidate people, but not her. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” She promised, swatting his finger away like it was a bug. 

“Find anything from your code research?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“Nothing yet, but I’m optimistic. Maybe I’ll ask Anthea.” 

“Don’t do that.” He whined. “Then we’ll owe Mycroft.” 

“But I’m not asking him.” 

“No, but they’re married, asking one for help is the same as asking the other.” She scoffed at her father’s immaturity. 

“Fine, maybe John had an army buddy we could ask.”

“Tried that, he doesn’t.” He deadpanned, going back to the microscope. 

“You followed a lead without me?” She said in a mock- hurt tone, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “Say it ain’t so.”

“You were out at school.” He argued, like it was her fault. She pouted and sensing this he turned his attention back to her. Sherlock mirrored her pout for a moment or two and soon the mock seriousness of his pout caused her to laugh. “See what we have at the end of the day and then ask her.” 

“Fine.” And with that Sherlock returned to his microscope while Kate went back to her internet research. 

They were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t notice when Molly came back in and look at them for a moment. Two great minds at work in her lab. Sometimes she swore she could hear the gears working in their heads as they got closer to solving the case. Molly was in no way stupid, she wasn’t being vain or anything, she was smart, she had to be in order to have her position at the hospital. Despite that she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with those two and she didn’t mind at all, but it would be interesting to understand how they saw they world. 

Sherlock’s mind had amazed her since the first day they met, when she was pretty sure he wasn’t even human. She had half convinced herself he was some kind of cyborg from the future (too much Doctor Who). He was looking in the microscope when his phone rang. At first, he seemed annoyed by the interruption but the he started talking sweetly to someone on the other end. She thought it might have been a girlfriend (just her luck), but when he hung up, he said it was his daughter. 

“Daughter?” She repeated. Was he married then? He didn’t have a ring but not all men wore them.

“Yes, she’s nine. Spending the day with my parents while I work.” His face seemed to light up at little talking about her, definitely different to the cyborg from a second ago. 

“Her mother working too? She asked casually, at least she hoped it was casual. 

“She’s dead.” He said, all emotion gone from his voice. “It was complicated.” 

“I’m sorry…” She stuttered, internally cursing herself for being so stupid. 

“Don’t be, it’s good just the two of us.” He said, turning his attention back to the microscope. “Maybe I’ll bring her with me some time.” 

“I’d like to meet her.” She said with a smile. 

“You’ll like her.” He assured her and of course he was right. Sherlock Holmes was always right.

Her mind then fast forwarded to yesterday at Baker Street. A little part of her hoped he would kiss her, but she knew that wasn’t likely considering who she was with. Any other guy would have done so, but Sherlock Holms wasn’t like other guys. There was a change she was being ridiculous and reading into things wrong, but it didn’t feel that way. Sherlock didn’t play games, so the fact she was feeling like this must have meant something. At least she hoped so anyway. Her friends would say this was a lost cause. A former addict who doubled as a single parent, on top of the fact he was a complete dick head, just seemed too much work, according to them, and she should cut her loses. Which was very hard to do when you were pretty much in love with said former addict and his daughter. It wasn’t ideal but there you have it. FML. Fuck Molly's Life.


	10. Jim from IT

The weird thing about morgues, apart from the dead bodies, was that time could go by really quickly. With the kind of work that usually went on down there, it was easy to get preoccupied and lose track of time. That clock on the wall that needed a new battery didn’t help. Deciding it was time for another coffee, Kate headed up to the canteen this time. It wasn’t the best quality, but caffeine was caffeine. The staff in the canteen were pleasant to her as always, probably because they were some of the few hospital staff who had not encountered her father, since he never went to get his own coffee. 

“Don’t know how you can handle it down there.” They’d say to her. “All cold and miserable.”

“Not so bad.” She’d always say, taking her order and heading back down to the underbelly of the hospital. She was just about to turn the corner when someone knocked into her. 

“Sorry.” A deep voice said. 

“That’s okay, coffee is safe.” She joked. Tinted eyebrows, too much hair product, in fact way too much personal grooming. Conclusion; gay. “Should have watched where I was going anyway.” 

“Bit young to work here aren’t’ you? I work over in IT.” He smiled proudly. If she had to guess it was probably all telling people to turn it off and on again, but it was good to be proud. 

“Just helping out with some stuff.” She replied. Something in his mind must have clicked because he face suddenly lite up, like he figured some great mystery. It was a strange look. 

“Do you work for that detective?” 

“I prefer ‘with’ but yeah.” She replied, slightly uneased by his expression. 

“You’re his daughter.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m Jim.” 

“Kate, I should probably get going he’s cranky without coffee.” She tried to get around him, but he grabbed her arm so tightly she was sure there would be bruises later. If she wanted to, she could easy take him, Anthea had taught her, but his eyes made her stand still. They were so cold and lifeless, well not completely lifeless there was something in there, but it was dark and unpleasant. 

“He must worry about you. His work can be dangerous. You know I’ve always thought children where the heart of their parents.” He said the last part to himself. His voice was as cold as his eyes. She pulled her arm away and rushed down the hall back to the morgue, not daring to look back. Those cold eyes following her as she went. When she came into the morgue, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she slumped against the wall. Sherlock rushed over to her and took the coffee from her shaking hands. He gently rubbed her arms (over her bruises) quietly asking if she was okay. 

“Your hands are shaking.” He placed a gentle hand in her wrist to check her pulse. “And your heart is racing. You’re scared. What happened?”

“Just some guy in the hall.” She explained. 

“What happened?” He demanded, the anger building inside him already. 

“Nothing.” She assured him. “He was just creepy, probably some weird fan of yours.” She moved away from him and went to sit down. “Here, drink your coffee before it’s cold.” 

“What was their name?” He demanded. 

“Jim, Dad please leave it.” 

He hated to, but he dropped it like she asked. As there was nothing new to be found from the body or the blood samples, he sent texts to members of his homeless network, the ones who managed to keep from pawning their phones at least. Probably asking them to keep their eyes out for more numbers or anything strange. Deciding they should get something for their dinner, Kate went into the hall to call John as he would be coming home soon. Once she was gone, Sherlock turned to Molly. 

“Jim.” He spat, like the name was poison. “Sound familiar?”

“Sorry no.” Molly replied. “Big hospital.”

“Suppose so.” He mumbled, clearly not happy with her answer. 

“Could be nothing, just some weirdo like she said.” She tried to assure him, but to no avail. 

“Maybe.” He grabbed his coat and stopped at the door, turning to face her. “Thank you again for yesterday and thanks for today.”

“That’s okay I wanted to.” She assured him. 

“You always do, and I appreciate it.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Dad, come on I’m hungry.” Kate called from the hall, causing the two to laugh. 

“So demanding.” Sherlock joked. 

“Wonder where she gets it from” Molly teased. 

“Her uncle.” Sherlock assured her, causing her to smile wider. She always had a nice smile. You didn’t normally associated smiles with morgues, but it seemed to work in this case. 

“I should go, big part of child rearing you know; feeding them, who knew.” 

“So I’ve heard. See you later then?”

“See you.” She gave a little wave as he made his way out. The door closed behind him and he saw Kate leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

“Fish and chips?” He asked. 

“Yeah. John said bring him back whatever” She smiled. “Another moment?”

“Could have been till you ruined it.” He said seriously. “Kids really do ruin everything.” 

“Shut up.” She hooked her arm around his and the pair made their way out. All thoughts of creepy fans forgotten… mostly.


	11. Mary

John was acting strange. Not a bad strange, just strange. When he wasn’t working with Sherlock on case or at the clinic, he was out. He never specified where or if he was meeting anyone, he just said ‘out’. He was dressing up more, clearly with the intention to impress someone. He was also on his phone more, texting someone. When Sherlock caught a glimpse of the screen, he saw there was kisses and emojis. Conclusion; he was seeing someone. 

It wasn’t until a one Saturday afternoon that the duo finally got to meet this mystery woman. It seemed to be a slow crime day, so Sherlock was sitting in his chair complaining, a few minutes away from shooting the wall. While her father acted like an overgrown baby, Kate stretched out on the couch with her laptop doing schoolwork. When the front door opened and closed, Sherlock snapped his head towards the door, probably hoping for a client. His head fell back when he saw it was only John and… someone new. 

“Who’s this?” He grumbled.

“Mary Morstan.” The newcomer answered. She didn’t seem insulted by his lack of proper greeting. More like she was amused, John must have warned her beforehand. Kate put her work to the side and stuck her hand out. 

“Kate Holmes.” She greeted. “The man child is Sherlock Holmes 

“Pleasure to meet you both.” She smiled. It wasn’t a patronising sought of smile like John’s previous girlfriends would give her (she was young not stupid), it was a real smile. Mary actually seemed happy to meet them. She gave her once over; size twelve, cat lover, short sighted, bakes own bread. Kate approved. 

“How did you meet?” She asked. 

“I work part time at the clinic. John was nice enough to show me the ropes on my first day.” She replied with a smile at John, who blushed in response. A truly adorable couple in the making it seemed. 

“How dull.” Sherlock mumbled from his spot. 

“Be polite.” Kate scolded. “I’ll make tea, Mary?”

“Sounds lovely, I’ll give you a hand.” And the two went to the kitchen, leaving the two men 

“She’s great right?” John whispered once they were alone.

“Is she? I hadn’t observed.”

“Don’t be a dick. I really like her.”

“Clearly.” Sherlock sat up straighter. “She seems pleasant.” 

“That the best you got?”

“Let’s see after tea.” And with that Mary and Kate came back with a tray and biscuits.

The five fell into conversation quite easily. Sherlock questioned Mary and she took it all in stride, never once got offended when he deduced her, which was really a first. One time he had deduced a date to tears before she had even got her coat off. When the topic of their past cases came up, she was all ears and even asked Kate questioned, not all dismissive of her age and she didn’t send dirty looks at Sherlock when it was mentioned she went to crime scene with them, which had happened more than once. She didn’t bate an eyelid, finally someone who got it. Yes, Mary Moston was a keeper. Sherlock even went along with some of John’s embellishments concerning their cases as he tried to make himself look good. There were times when he had to set the record straight, but this just seemed to amuse Mary even more, so it was unlikely John would hold this against him later. Two cups of tea later, the couple made their way out for dinner. They said their goodbyes and once they heard the door close, Sherlock moved to the widow and watched them get in the taxi. 

“Secret tattoo, appendix scar, Lib Dem.” He rattled off. 

“Cat lover, shorted sighted and size twelve.” Kate added. 

“Bakes own bread.” They spoke in unison. 

“I like her.” Kate said, clearing away the mugs. 

“Me too.

“Really?”

“She’s smart, should prove useful.” He argued with a shrug. 

“She seems to like you too, which is a first.” Sherlock hummed in agreement at the statement. With the previous distraction gone, he soon reverted back to an overgrown man child and started complaining again. Kate got up to make more tea. 

A few days later, Kate and Mary crossed paths again, this time at the cemetery. Kate was lost in her own world with her headphones in when Mary came over to her, flowers in hand like so many before her. They exchanged pleasantries before addressing the elephant in the room. 

“Is it your mum?” Mary asked carefully. 

“Yeah.” She replied, “John tell you anything?”

“Only that Sherlock was a single parent, I thought I would leave it since it can be a delicate topic.” 

“I was a few months old.” Kate explained. “She wasn’t much of a mum, had other… interests.”

“But you still come see her.” 

“Not really, she’s up the path but I don’t actually go there. Just sit here.” It was time to change the subject. She gestured to the flowers on Mary’s lap. “Who are those for?”

“My dad, he died a few years ago.” A sad smile graced her face. “He was a lovely man. Always there for me, not unlike your own dad.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” Kate truly hoped sounded genuine. That was another thing she and her dad had in common; neither of them quite understood that phrase. Why should you be sorry for something that, although tragic, is complete natural? 

It could be argued that Sarah’s death wasn’t exactly natural, but death was death. If she had to guess, Mary’s father died from some disease (likely cancer), in a way that was natural since sickness was a part of life. Her father would put in down to stupid sentiment, while she argued it was an unnecessary social convention that was really outdated in a modern society. Some cared, fair enough, and others said it to be polite. Those were the real idiots. Basically apologising for death is pointless and idiotic. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Sorry?” Her tone slightly panic, please don’t let her have messed this up for John. 

“From what I’ve heard about Sherlock he doesn’t do emotion and I’m going to guess that, on some level, neither do you and that’s okay.” She quickly reassured her at the end. “You don’t really get more emotional than condolences.”

Kate stared at her in disbelief. Mary Morstan was certainly something. No wonder John liked her so much. 

“I like him a lot too.” She said and Kate realised she had said that last part outload. Happy to see there was no harm done they smiled at each other and enjoyed the silence for a moment. Deciding she should leave Mary to it, they said their goodbyes and Kate left the cemetery closing the creaky gate behind her, thinking to herself that John should really keep this one around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I had to bring Mary into this early because I love her so much and, spoiler alert, she is NOT dying here because John has suffered enough I think so let's give him this.


	12. In the blood

Kate was very much a Holmes, that could not be denied. She not only saw but she observed. However, one skill she had not quite perfected yet was the ‘Mind Palace’. She had a good memory and could often recall a number of things. Her father would tell her once she was done with school she would have an easier time because her head wouldn’t be filled with such useless trivia like coastal defence or the similarities between Juliet’s mother and her nurse. This was why she made her own files of the cases she helped on. John’s blog entries had made a useful addition to them, if he ever wanted to retire from medicine, he’d make a great writer.

In regards to their current case, she was fairly certain that the victims should be ignored (you know what she means) and the numbers should be the focus. After emailing Anthea some pictures of them and then hearing back an hour or so later, it seemed there was no order or code behind them, they looked random because they were random. If the PA slash wife of the British Government couldn’t find something, then there was probably nothing to find.

Okay, new theory; the numbers were all a ploy to get attention. Make the deaths more interesting than they actually are. And anyone who had read John’s blog knew that if you wanted to get the attention of Sherlock Holmes, you had to be interesting. The best way to do that would have been for there to be a body count, which right now was two but was likely to grow. Making a quick note of this new theory, she pulled out another sheet of paper that was blank except for a heading; SUSPECTS. When a motive was unknown, it could be difficult to find suspects. Remembering the other day and not like the sight of a blank page, she wrote the name Jim, before closing the file and going in search of food.  
John and Sherlock were at the table drinking tea and they both said good morning. A newspaper lay on the table, and Kate skimmed through to see if there was anything on the case. Seemed Mycroft had a hand in it, because less interesting topics had made the front page. For the best probably, since there wasn’t really much to say at the moment. She sat down and started working on the crossword. While she worked, Sherlock and John talked about a case that come through John’s blog. While Sherlock argued it was a three at best, John tried to convince him it would be worth it. 

“You could probably solve it in a day, but she wants to see him again.” John pushed. 

“Three.” He argued. “Dull.” 

“Sherlock, she’s dying, and she wants to see her son again.” John pushed. “Imagine what it must be like; to be separated from your child.” He glanced in Kate’s direction, hoping his friend would catch his meaning. He seemed to because he let out an annoyed groan. 

“Fine, low blow Watson, low blow.” 

“Worked didn’t it?” He said, clearly satisfied with himself. 

“I have an idea where to start.” He turned to Kate. “Might as well do your own thing today.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” She teased. 

“Can’t hang out with your dad all the time, do something teenagers do.” 

“Cool, I’ll take your card and spend all your money.”

“Jokes on you, I don’t know where my card is.” 

“Oh, I have it.” John pulled out his wallet and handed her Sherlock’s card. “He wouldn’t get milk, so the least he could do was pay.” 

“There you go. Go buy something I’ll hate and have a good day.” Sherlock encouraged, before going to his room to get ready. 

Sherlock and John headed out, leaving Kate alone. She finished her food and texted her friends to see who was free. The boys both had football practice so she made plans with Kelly to meet up in Hyde Park. After getting ready, she caught taxi and made her way to the park, admiring the city as they drove. 

Kate had spent most of her life in London, with the early years when she and Sherlock lived with his parents. New York, Tokyo, Paris, all the great cities of the world couldn’t hold a candle to London. Beauty, history, culture and even a darkness, all wrapped up in one city. It wasn’t for everyone, some people preferring a quite life in the countryside. Whereas others loved the hustle and bustle and loved nothing more then to be part of the life blood of this great city. Be part of something bigger than themselves. The Holmes family had always been in London; they worked in government, banks, education, even law enforcement. For generations, the Holmes family worked to provide for the people of this city and as it grew, they grew with it. Some left for retirement, like her grandparents, others were buried here, not even death being able to take them away. London was a part of her, just as much as she was a part of it. 

When she meet up with Kelly, they found a nice shady spot to relax. As usual the park was busy with people enjoying the nice weather; the sun shone bright but there was slight chill in the air, enough to warrant an extra layer. While they enjoyed this rare free day, Kate entertained them with some deductions. For example; the young couple who couldn’t look away from their phones were both cheating, the woman with the coffee flask and the slight wobble in her step spoke volumes. Kate also told her about Mary. 

“She sounds pretty great.” Kelly said. 

“Yeah, she really is, and she seems to get along with Dad.”

“Speaking of getting along, Sherlock and Molly had a moment you say?” Kelly wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing Kate to laugh. “By the way, you can’t even get sick again, you can’t leave me with those people.”

“I’m so sorry my stomach bug was an inconvenience for you and yes there was a moment no matter what Dad says.” 

“Here’s what I think will happen; John and Mary get married and they slow dance at the wedding and boom romance. This will all happen in a year or so.” Kelly theorised. 

“They haven’t been together that long.” Kate reasoned. 

“My dads moved in together, got married and adopted me within a year and they’re still happy.” Kelly pointed out. “It could happen.”

“Okay.” Kate drawled out. “Whatever you say.” 

“So you going to tell me the thing you’re not telling me?” Kelly said after a moment of silence. Kate raised an eyebrow at her. 

“What thing?”

“The thing that’s on your mind but you won’t say.” Kelly gave her a knowing look. You didn’t have to be a detective to know where your best friend was keeping something from you it seemed. 

“Just this weirdo I ran in to at the hospital the other day.” She admitted.

“How weird?”

“Just.” She paused looking for the right word. “His eyes were strange, and he just had something weird about him you know. Like an aura.” 

“I’ve always thought hospitals where weird places so it would make sense the people who work there are.” 

“Yeah I guess.”

“Your dad do anything?”

“I asked him not to, just said it some creepy fan of his.”

“But you don’t believe that do you?”

“I’m not sure to be honest.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Kelly assured her. “You always do.” 

They stayed there for another hour or so, until Kelly got a call saying she had to head home. They hugged goodbye. Noticing the time, she pulled out her phone and texted Molly. 

Fancy some chips ???- KH

U R just like your dad 😊 sounds gr8- MH

B there in 10- KH

She had the taxi driver drop her off at the same café from the other day and ordered two portions of chips to go. Instead of going through the main entrance she took a side one and headed down the back stairs. That smell that could only be found in hospitals surrounded her as her footsteps echoed around the stairs. Finally, reaching the morgue she kicked the door open ready to greet Molly. 

“Hey, you hungry?” 

“You’re an angel, I’m starving.” Molly greeted her with a smile, but it did not seem to meet her eyes. Something was troubling her. 

“What’s wrong?” Kates asked, passing Molly her portion. 

“It’s nothing.” She assured her. “Just this weird note I found.” She handed Kate a pink sticky note. 

“Molly, sorry I missed you, but I ran into a problem. We’ll meet soon. M.” Kate read outload. “Mike?” 

“He doesn’t leave notes, he calls.” She explained. “Maybe it was a mistake.”

“Maybe.” Kate mumbled, maybe living with her dad had made her too suspicious but then again if it was a mistake, why write her name? There wasn’t another Molly working in the morgue, let alone the hospital. She took a quick picture of the note and then went to sit down with Molly. 

Being able to eat in a morgue without feeling even a little bit disturbed by the corpses locked two metres away from them should be considered a special skill worthy of admiration. Had Molly always had this skill? Or was it something she had learned from being on the job for so long? While they ate, they talked about random stuff and Molly’s last date, which did not work out.

“I don’t see how someone could maintain the lie for so long.” Molly wondered, referring to the three long distance relationships her date had being maintain. Kate tried her hardest to look surprised at this revelation. 

“Dad once had client who had two families. You’d be amazed some people can pull off.

“Maybe I should become an old cat lady.” 

“You’re too young.” Kate assured her. “You’ll find someone, and it will be awesome, and you’ll forget all idiots.”

“How’s your love life?” She asked. 

“I live with an ex- soldier who happens to know how to break every bone in a body, a sociopathic father who could deduce them to tears and an uncle who is essentially the British government. How do you think it’s going?” She laughed. 

“And you’re friends with a pathologist who could make the whole thing look like an accident.” Molly added sweetly. 

“Forget you, I’m going to be the old cat lady.” And the morgue was filled with the sounds of laughter. Not creepy at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coastal defence and the similarities between Mrs Capulet and the nurse where actually things I looked at in school. Sherlock would probably say I should delete them.


	13. The finale problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a panic attack later in this chapter and I would like to think I did okay, but I don't have much experience with them so I had to look it up. If I got something wrong anywhere please let me know and I'll sort it.

“A nice murder, that’ll cheer you up.” That was what Mrs Hudson said and a few seconds later the window was shattered, sending Sherlock face first on the floor.

It was a gas leak, that was what they said and if it wasn’t for the phone, they would have believed them. A pink smart phone, an exact copy of the one from the first case Sherlock and John worked on before John even knew about her. The case that started it all. Kate hadn’t realised her father had called Anthea to come get her until she arrived at Baker Street. Her expensive heels tapping against the stairs as she raced up them, eager to get to her niece and brother in law. She enveloped them both in a tight hug when she came in.

“Kate, pack a bag.” Sherlock told her when Anthea let him go.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I’m right a very dangerous person just tried to blow us up, so you’re are getting out of London until this is solved. Understand?”

“But...” She tried to protest.

“No buts, now go.” He ordered.

Realising there was no use fighting she went to pack a bag. She packed enough cloths for three days, not that she would need that much, he would have this solved and she would be back before either of them knew it. When she was done, she went back to the sitting room and hugged John and Sherlock goodbye before allowing Anthea to guide her out the flat into the car outside.

They drove in silence, well Kate was silent, Anthea talked. She promised she would be home soon and that she was going to love the safe house outside the city. Anthea tried to put a nice spin on it, she said they would be together the whole time and that it would be like a sleepover. Eventually, Kate grew tired of this.

“Anthea, as fun as it sounds, this is not helping.”

“I’m sorry but this time you can’t help your dad, this might be too big.” She explained.

“What if it’s too big for him?”

“He’ll handle it.” Anthea promised her. They didn’t speak for the rest for the drive. 

Anthea was right, she did love the safe house. It was a cosy looking house with ivy growing around the outside. It was the kind of house newlyweds would buy with the intention of filling it with children and living out their lives there. You would never think it was a government owned property that was used to hide people. In fact, it reminded her of her grandparent’s house and she already felt safer, well as safe as she could be given the circumstances. 

Boredom could be a dangerous thing. It could make a person frustrated and intolerable. It has also proven to be dangerous for walls and furniture. ‘I can’t be the only one who get bored,’ that was what John told her Sherlock had said. The whole thing was crazy; people strapped to bombs, time limits and all these strange cases. If there wasn’t some criminal mastermind at work, she would have loved to have been involved. 

John was the one keeping her up to date with what was going on. Sherlock wasn’t the best at keeping her updated when she wasn’t there. There were time when he had to go out of London for a case that he would forget to text or call her, leaving her imagine to the worse. But no matter how bad it seemed, he always came back. That was what she told herself while she tried to sleep or eat anything. Each time John called her, he seemed to grow more and more agitated, it was mostly because of what they dealing with and partly because of Sherlock.

“He’s just so… Sherlock. I know he’s your dad but...” John fumed over the phone.

“And I know exactly what he gets like so don’t worry.” She assured him. It was times like this that Kate was so grateful; for John’s presence in her dad’s life. She dreaded to think what it would be like for him on his own. 

“All his talk about not caring or not being a hero.” He seemed to be calming down. 

“He thinks he’s too selfish to be a hero.” She explained. 

“What do you mean?”

“Dad does what he does as an alternative to getting high.” She began, moving from the bed to settle in the plush window seat, another thing she loved about the house. “Part of him wants to help people, I really believe that, but at the end of the day he does what he does so he doesn’t go off the rails. Most heroes do what they do because they are selfless, and he is anything but. So in his eyes, he’s not a hero.” 

“But he’s yours?” 

“He’s always been mine.” In the background she heard her dad call John’s name and knew it was time to say goodbye. 

“I have told him to text you, but it doesn’t seem to register.”

“It’s okay, as long as someone keeps me in the loop. Good luck.” 

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Kate pressed her head against the window, the chill of the glass relaxed her. It started to rain, and she followed the rain drops as they slid down the window. She must have stayed like that for a while, because before she knew it, Anthea was calling her down for dinner. 

She came into the kitchen and was greeted by the smell of spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread. There at the kitchen island Anthea stood in her jogging bottoms and a baggy Oxford shirt, with a messy bun completing the look. Even dressed like this, her aunt was one of the most beautiful women she knew. Calm and collected, never a hair out of place. Anthea had been part of her life long before she became her aunt, having gotten the job as Mycroft’s PA a few months before she was born and actually managing to keep it. Her uncle didn’t get his head out of his ass and ask her out until she was five, it was clearly worth the wait because they were married before her sixth birthday. She had some memories of that day; the pink dress she was made to where, the yummy cake they had (which her dad teased Mycroft about) and the dancing. There weren’t that many people but that just seemed to make it all the more fun. 

“Smells good.” She commented, taking a seat. 

“Hope it tastes as good.” 

“John called.”

“What did he say?”

“Dad’s being frustrating, as normal and they’re still not sure what’s going on.” 

“If I know your dad, he’ll figure this out.” She pushed a plate of food in front of her. “Now please eat.” 

While they ate, they talked about what movie to watch that night when Anthea’s phone rang. She picked it up and said nothing for a minute or two while the other person talked. For a moment there was a look of distress on her face, but it then switch to relief. She said goodbye and turned to Kate. It was over and she could go home. Suddenly her appetite returned, and she devoured her food before running upstairs to pack. 

Kate raced up the stairs like she was being chased, calling out for her dad. When she reached the flat, she jumped into Sherlock’s arms. They held each other tight, scared to let each other go. Sherlock whispered words of reassurance. When they let go, she hugged John who looked pretty shaken up. In fact, now that she got a good look at the two of them, they both did. When she asked, they exchanged a look and sat her down, telling her the whole story. The pool, the bomb on John’s chest. A consulting criminal. There actually was someone out there in the world who you called and who would arrange a murder for you. Someone you could pay to forge a masterpiece, even hire an assassin. A network so complex and sophisticated, it could reach every corner of the world. A spider in the middle of a massive corrupt web.

“I will burn the heart out of you.” That was what he said to Sherlock. 

“I’ve always thought children where the hearts of their parents.” The words she had tried to forgot were racing through her mind. 

The note in the lab signed M.

Jim from the hall, who gripped her arms so tight there were bruises the next day. Those eyes, eyes that were so cold. That wasn’t his name and he didn’t work in IT. His name was Moriaty and he tried to kill her father. 

She ran to the bathroom and throw up. Gagging as she fought to breath. The room started spinning and there was a sudden pain in her chest. She was feeling hot and cold all at the same time. Muffled voices tried to call out to her, but it was like she was underwater. The only thing she could hear clearly was someone crying. 

The pain in her chest went away as quickly as it had come, and she realised she was soaking from sweat and tears. Sherlock was kneeling close to her careful not to touch her. He calmly told her to breath and together they took deep breaths in and out until her rate went back to normal. John then came in and handed her a chocolate bar, telling her to eat. She didn’t argue and took a bite, the creamy texture coating her tongue. She must have spoken at some point because John calmly explained she had had a panic attack, most likely triggered by all the stress. 

Once she had finished the chocolate, John and Sherlock guided her to room and tucked her into bed. She tried to find the strength to tell them what she knew, that Moriaty had approached her and that she thought Molly was in trouble, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, and she was soon dead to the world.  
She woke a few hours later, when her phone went off alerting her to a text message. She groaned and unlocked her phone, expecting a late-night text from one of her friends. The blood drained from her face and she felt like she was going to be sick again. 

Say anything & they all go BOOM- M. Attached to the text were surveillance photos; Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson, Molly and each of her friends. 

What do you want?- KH

Let’s have a little chat- M

How R U with heights?- M 

Meet me here- M Attached was a screenshot of google maps with a red pin where he wanted to meet; Bart’s Hospital. 

When?- KH

5 mins ago- M

Better hurry- M

Clock’s ticking- M

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream and through the phone against the wall, like that would make it all go away. Perhaps this was why her father shunned emotion so much; it really did overshadow logical thinking. Taking another deep breath she got to work. She got dressed, feeling disgusting from earlier but she wasn’t exactly trying to look nice here, and packed her bag. Carful not to step on any creaky floorboards, she looked in on both John and Sherlock, relived to find them both sleeping. Before grabbing her coat, she made a detour to the sitting room and went to the bookcase, taking what she needed and shoving it in her bag before leaving the flat.


	14. Holmes VS Moriarty

Kate pulled her coat tight around herself to fight off the early morning chill. Taking a cab from Baker Street to the hospital and ignoring the drivers enquiring about what she was doing here so early. What was she doing there? The easy answer was that she was protecting the people she cared about, but it could be argued there was a more complex answer to that question. Maybe what drove her was the same thing that drove her father to get into a cab with a serial killer; the desire for answers, the need to know the whole story. Or maybe it was just another trait that the Holmes’ family shared; they all had a death wish. 

He asked how she was with heights, so her best bet was the roof. It was easy enough to take the fire escape up there. He was right there waiting for her. He wore a smart suit and his hair was gelled back. He looked nothing like he did that day in the hall. He smiled at her, like she was an old friend. 

“You made it.” He greeted, like they were meeting for a casual catch up. 

“You made it very hard to say no.” 

“Suppose I did.” He moved to sit on the ledge. “So tell me what you know.”

“You’re a consulting criminal with a vast criminal network. You tried to kill my dad and our friend, and I think you have something to do with those numbers and the deaths related to them.” She rattled off, like she was reciting facts for an exam. 

“You would be right on all accounts.” He smiled at her, clearly impressed with her. 

“I’ve heard all about what you can do, you killed a child not much younger than you and no one knew for years, what do the numbers even mean?” She asked clearly confused. “It all seems too… boring, when compared to what you’ve previously done.” 

“You really want to know?” He leaned in, like he was about to tell her a secret. “They don’t mean anything and those addicts who were killed, they don’t mean anything either.”

“You wanted Dad’s attention.” She stated, thinking back to her files, that would still be lying open on her desk. 

“Half right, I got his attention today. What I wanted was to see who he turned to on a case; Lestrade and John.” He smirked at her. “I never got a chance to see Molly.”

“You were going to Molly that day?” 

“I was but I ran into a problem or an opportunity.” 

“Why wasn’t there a dead body at the first set of numbers? The first set we saw where the second set according to Dad.” 

“I thought that might be enough to pique his interest, but it seemed I was wrong. It does happen.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Had I known that a body was needed to do that, I would have started with the blood shed earlier.” 

“People have died.” She growled at him. It made sense that he would be so nonchalant about it, someone who did what he did, who organised all those crimes would have to be. No wonder his eyes were so cold. 

“THAT’S WHAT PEOPLE DO.” The volume of his words almost made her jump out of her skin. He seemed to notice this and started laughing. He paced around the roof as he continued to laugh. She looked down at the street, despite the early hour there were people walking around. They were minding their own business, going about their day, no idea what was happening above them. Was this where Mycroft got the ‘goldfish’ analogy from? 

“You paid them off.” It was a statement rather than a question. 

“Give an addict enough money and they’ll do anything.” 

“When you said opportunity, what did you mean?” She asked, growing irritated with his laughter and just wanting it to stop. 

“Your father was getting too close and he couldn’t be allowed to continue.” He explained. “It’s a cliché I know, using his child against him but some clichés are just too good to resist.” 

“What’s your plan here?” 

“He needs to be stopped but killing him would be too easy. I want him to burn, to suffer and when I’m done, he won’t be in any position to stop me. He’ll waste away.” He looked so proud of himself, like he had won some amazing prize. 

This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to threated her father like this. People from all walks of life, responsible for all sorts of crimes, had tried to scare him, most of the time they were empty promises, others not so much. Some had tried to pay him off, but it never worked. Even after all that, it never occurred to him to find a new line of work. Even if he denied ever being one until his dying day, Sherlock Holmes was on the side of the angels.

“Can’t be bothered to get your hands dirty?” 

“If everything goes my way, and it usually does, he’ll take care of that for me.”

“He’s much too fond of himself for that.” She argued, pulling her coat tighter when an especially chilling gust passed through her. Moriaty didn’t seem at all effected by the temperature. 

“How fond of himself will he be when you’re gone and it’s all his fault?”

“He’ll be driven by revenge, he’ll track you down to the farthest corner of the world.” She promised him. “And it won’t be his fault.” 

“It makes him slow.” He whined. “His love for you, can’t imagine what he’d be like with your mother around.”

“He wasn’t too fond of her, I doubt she would have much of an influence over him.” She assured him. “No need to bring up the dead where they don’t belong.” 

“All right then. You must have a boat load of ‘Mummy issues’.”

“Can you really have issues with someone you don’t remember?” 

“Parental relationship are complicated.” He took a seat on the ledge and casually looked around. For second she contemplated pushing him off. 

“If you’re network is so good, why are you worried about him? There’s no guarantee he’ll ever be able to do anything about it.” 

“He got close, much closer than anyone else has.” He explained. “He can’t be allowed to go on.” 

“You really think I’m going to let you kill me or threaten him?”

“Of course not, if you just let me that would be boring.” The way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made her blood boil. 

“And we’ve seen what happens when you get bored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty dialogue heavy but I've always seen Moriarty as a talker and Kate is Sherlock's daughter. Shorter then my usual updates but I want to build some suspense.


	15. Where is she?

Back at Baker street, John was awoken from his deep sleep by the sounds of Sherlock yelling his name. Before he had a chance to wipe the sleep dust from his eyes, Sherlock came bursting in, still in his cloths from earlier, looking dishevelled and his hair all over the place.

“What the hell…?” He groaned sleepily. 

“Kate is gone.” Now he was awake. 

He jumped out of bed like it was on fire and followed Sherlock into the sitting room. He saw her coat was gone from the peg. Sherlock went straight to his phone, calling Mycroft and putting him on speaker. Without so much as a hello, he demanded to know where Kate was. 

“How would he know?” John asked. 

“He tracks her phone.” He snapped. “Check her records, has anyone contacted her?”

There was scuffle on the other end and some mumbling. It seemed Anthea had taken the phone from her husband and was doing what Sherlock had asked. John stood there, his thoughts running at a mile a minute; where had she gone? What was she doing? Sherlock slammed the phone on the coffee table and paced the room. After what seemed like an eternity, Anthea spoke up. 

“She got some texts early this morning.” She explained, a slight tremor in her voice. “They’re encrypted, I can’t see what they say, only that she received them.”

“Who could encrypt something so even MI5 couldn’t see it?” John asked.

“The same person who runs a criminal network.” Sherlock said. Without another word, Sherlock ran out the room and a second later, he came back holding a piece of paper. “She was on to something, she didn’t know it, but she was.” 

“Sorry?”

“Kate hasn’t perfected a mind palace yet, so she likes to make files. Whatever those texts say, he threatened me that’s the only reason she would leave without saying anything.” He tossed the paper at John. 

“Jim.” He read out. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Moriarty.” He explained, running his hand through his already unruly hair. He was growing agitated but was trying to hold it together. “He approached Kate at Bart’s ages ago. She probably wrote the name down because she couldn’t think of anyone else. He knew who she was, and I guarantee you he planned to use her against me.” ,

“He had snippers on us Sherlock.” John remined him.

“He wanted to scare us, he told me he would burn the heart out of me.” Sherlock looked his friend right in the eye. “If I have a heart, John, what is it?”

“Kate.” It finally dawned on him. Someone with Moriaty’s resources could easy have taken them out, if he really wanted them out the way it would take more then an inconvenient phone call to stop him. Sherlock was right; he wanted to scare them, show them what he was capable off, what they were really up against, but he didn’t want them dead. He had something else planned. 

“Where is she?” Sherlock barked at the phone. 

“She’s at Bart’s, we’ll meet you there.” With that they hung up. 

“Get your coat.” Sherlock ordered him. John did what he said, grabbing his coat off his chair. It was then he caught sight of the bookcase, or rather what was missing. 

“Sherlock.” He called. 

“What?” 

“She took your revolver.” 

They rushed out the flat into the street, ignoring Mrs Hudson's queries about all the noise. After telling the driver where to go and practically ordering him to step on it. John could feel the anger coming off Sherlock. He had been in risky situations before, he was a solider and a doctor, risk was a key part of both occupations. 

“Sherlock.” John tried. 

“Not a word, John, not a word.” He growled. 

“It’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that? How could you possibly know that?”

“Because if I don’t believe it myself, then my mind is going to go to a really bad place.” 

“Think about where my mind is going John.” 

When they arrived at the hospital, Sherlock went straight to Mycroft. Whatever composure he was maintaining in the cab was gone and he blew up in Mycroft’s face. Demanding to know what his plan was. Mycroft explained they had blocked the roads and that he had agents ready to move in, which Sherlock was strongly against. 

“You rush in there and she could be in even more danger.” He practically yelled. 

“We need to rational here Sherlock, getting emotional will do nothing.” Mycroft explained. 

“Oh, am I being too emotional?” Sherlock scoffed sarcastically. “My daughter is a with a psychotic criminal who, and I quote wants ‘to burn the heart out of me’, so I think the way I’m acting is completely appropriate.” 

“He’s right Mycroft.” John reasoned. “We go in guns blazing, it could make things worse.”

“Then what do you propose Doctor Watson? That we wait and see who comes down alive.” 

“She’s completely unarmed against him.” Anthea pointed out, growing more distressed by the minute. 

“Actually, she has my revolver.” Sherlock told her. Anthea stared at him, completely gobsmacked. 

“You leave that lying around? Do you think that gun safe I gave you is for decoration?” She scolded. 

“Is now really the time for this conversation?” Sherlock asked. 

“Gun ownership is risky.” She reminded him.

“For god sack shut up both of you.” John ordered. “Now, there’s a teenager in there with a psychopath who will not hesitate to pull the trigger, so let’s focus on that shall we?” Sherlock went quite for a moment, like he was thinking. After a second he spoke. 

“Try calling her.” He said. “Use your phone.”

“Why?” He asked, pulling his phone out, looking for her number.

“She thinks she protecting me, if she wanted to talk, she would have woken me up. Seems more likely she’s answer you.” John looked at his friend as saw his eyes were red.  
Not too long ago he called him a machine. There were times he almost thought the man standing in front of him wasn’t human, but here he was. Terrified at what could happen to his only child. A child he probably felt was in danger because of him and his work. John had never wanted to take something back so badly. He nodded and while it rang, for the first time since he was shot, he prayed.


	16. Side of the angels

When Kate’s phone rang, she wanted to ignore it, but Moriaty, ever the gentleman, said she should answer it. 

“Hello John.” She greeted, not taking her eyes off Moriaty who began to pace around the roof. 

“Kate, where are you?” He sounded relived. 

“The roof. He said to come, or he would hurt you all.” She explained, her eyes following Moriaty like you would a fly you wanted to swap. 

“Moriaty is there with you.” John exclaimed in disbelief. 

“I need you to promise me something…” 

“You have to get away, Mycroft has agents…”

“I can’t do that. Now listen to me; promise you’ll look after my dad.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“You think I don’t know that? John, I can’t walk away from this, so I need your word that you will look after him if anything happen.” John was speechless and she could almost picture him standing there with his mouth open. She took his silence as a sign to carry on. 

“He’ll push you away.” She began, tears streaming down her cheeks. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued. “He’ll push you away, but you have to push back and make sure he doesn’t ruin the life he has built, even if he says he built it for me.” 

“Kate…” His own voice was thick with tears now. She could see it now; his eyes turning red as he tried to keep his voce steady. 

“Make sure he’s okay and tell him he was my hero, no matter what he did. Make sure he stays on the side of the angles. Please promise me.”

“Get out of there.” He desperately tried again. 

“JOHN HAMISH WATSON, promise me that’s an order.” She demanded. 

“I promise.” He finally caved, despite being terrified she would hang up now that she heard what she needed to hear. She breathed a sigh of relief and despite her current situation, she felt calm. It was a like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. “Tell him I love him and John, I’m so glad we met you. I’m so glad you’re his friend, so please keep being his friend and remember that I think you’re great and thank you again for saving him that night.” 

“He told you that?”

“He tells me everything.” She shrugged. 

“You’re welcome.” He chocked out. “I’m so glad I met you both.” 

“And hey, don’t let Mary go, she’s perfect for you.” A ghost of a smile on her face as she said it. “I have to go.” Before he had a chance to talk and try to get her stop, she hung up and held back a sob. Was that the last thing she would ever say to him? In fact what was the last thing she said to her dad? She couldn’t remember much after she had her panic attack. Did she mange to say goodnight or even a mumbled ‘I love you’? While she and John talked, part of her wished he would snatch the phone from John, even if he yelled at her she would at least be able to hear his voice again. But the other half of her knew if he had done that, she would have hung up, not wanting what could the last conversation she had with her dad be over the phone. Perhaps that was why he had not taken the phone from John; he too was afraid it was the end. Meanwhile Moriaty looked like he had just witnessed the greatest comedy ever. If she didn’t want to punch him before, she certainly did now. 

“Awww, that was so touching.” He said acting all choked up, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “I’m getting emotional.” 

“Haven’t you ever loved anyone?” She spat at him, her hatred for the man in front of her quickly overpowering her fear of what would come next. 

“Not really.” He then pulled out a gun from inside his jacket and she pulled her father’s revolver out. 

“Nice gun.” He complimented, genuinely impressed with her choice of weapon. 

“My great grandfather’s.” She shrugged. “So what, we turn around and count to ten?”

“You know you could be very useful to me and my organisation.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Should have known, just like your dad; on the side of the angels.” He mock gagged.

“But don’t think for one second he is one.” She assured him. 

“What about you? What are you?” He asked.

“I don’t know yet.” She replied honestly. 

“Too bad you’ll never find out.” If she didn’t know better, she would think he was actually apologetic. But she did know better. You had to have a soul to be sorry. 

Two shots rang out and suddenly Kate was looking up at the sky. It was like everything had been heightened. The rough texture of the gravel under her fingers, the sirens down below. All of a sudden, she felt cold and wished for her bed, in fact all she wanted to do was sleep. Maybe that was the answer; maybe this whole thing had been a dream. She would wake up in her own room and find John and Sherlock drinking tea in the kitchen, arguing over what case to take on next. That would be nice.


	17. Kate's mind palace

It seemed even a doctor could hate hospitals, no one ever really wanted to be there half the time. That was why John preferred the clinic; people made appointments and they were usually pleased to be there. Hospitals where another story. It had all been a blur; the gunshots, the agents coming to the roof and finding the two fallen bodies, one of which had a faint heartbeat. 

John sat outside the operating room, a long-forgotten cup of coffee in his hand and Sherlock sitting next to him. He had not said a word since Kate had gone into surgery. Mycroft and Anthea were not with them, most likely dealing with Moriaty’s body and ensuring Kate was in the best hands. It didn’t matter how influential his brother was, Sherlock was not allowed anywhere near the surgery while his daughter’s live hung in the balance. For a second, John wished he was a surgeon. After what seemed like an eternity, the surgeon came out and said all went well but the next twenty-four hours were crucial as she had lost so much blood. The rest was all up to her. John and Sherlock moved to her room (a private one, curtesy of Mycroft) and sat at her bed. She was so still and pale, wires coming in and out of her. 

“What did she make you promise?” Sherlock asked, not looking away from her. 

“To look after you.” He replied. 

“Why?” 

“She was worried about what would happen to you, she also said…” 

“Don’t tell me, she can tell me herself when she wakes up.” He stood and moved to the window. It had been raining for a few hours now, matching the whole mood of the hospital. Without a word, he left the room, forgetting his coat. John wanted to call after him, but he decided against it, there was nothing either of them could do and he knew she wouldn’t be left alone. John turned to the sleeping girl and breathed heavily, gently taking her hand.

“If you don’t come back to us.” He whispered. “I’m scared of what he’ll do, and I’m scared I won’t be able to keep my promise.” He paused, but there was no change just the steady beep of the heart monitor. His eyes grew moist again. 

Sherlock stood at the fire exist at the back of the hospital, a popular place for staff to come and smoke, but he wasn’t smoking himself. If asked he would say, he didn’t have any cigarettes but that would be lie as he had a half a packet in his pocket. She always hated it when he smoked, reminding him each time he lite one that they took at least ten minutes off your life, ten minutes she would spend without him she’d say, and he would put it out. Even when she wasn’t there, she’d know somehow when she saw him, even after he got rid of the smell. For a second he thought that it would make her magically appear next to him, ready to tell him off. 

His chest felt tight and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. Is this what she had felt over the years? Most of the time he would come home with a couple bruised or in need of stitched that he would often take care of himself, but there were still time he would need more advanced treatment. One time he was in hospital for a week with a concussion and internal bleeding after taking down a drug ring. Another time he was in for longer after getting poisoned by a serial killer preying on the homeless, he only found out about that one because of his network. Each and every time she came to see him, she would have a bright smile and would talk his ear off. As she got older, he began to realise it was her way of coping. No one close to him had ever really spent much time in hospital, so apart from smoking he didn’t have much of a coping system. 

“Sherlock?” A timid voice called out, turning around he saw Molly Hooper. “You’re not smoking.”

“Don’t have any.” He deadpanned. 

“Yes you do, you just don’t want to smoke because you know she hates it.” She said. 

“Oh and you know her so well.” He spat at her, if it was anyone else Molly would have filched and backed away, but she was determined to stand her ground. In all the years they had known each other, he had never acted this way with her. He had not always been polite, but he had never set out to hurt her or scare her, and she would not let him start now. 

“You are not the only one hurting here.” She reminded him.

“She’s my daughter.” He practically growled at her, his eyes cold. 

“And you are not the only one who loves her.” She snapped, causing Sherlock to stare at her with his eyes wide. He knew she was fond of Kate, but he had never thought she would use the word love. Molly internally smirked at his reaction and continued. 

“We’ll talk after I’ve had a bad date and she’ll bring me lunch when she’s in the area. I’ve known her for years and you should know better than anyone how easy she is to love. She’s your daughter, yes, but that doesn’t mean you are the only one who is allowed to feel hurt right now. I love her to.” She said the last part in a tone that dared him to challenge her. By now, her cheeks were tear stained and she was sobbing, it was then that Sherlock did something that surprised them both; he hugged her. 

He wrapped his arms around her and for a beat or two her arms just hung there until she wrapped them around him. They stood there, silently sobbing and breathing each other in. There were still a faint trace of his aftershave on his cloths and Molly’s ever-present combination of lemons and decay. Sherlock pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheek while she looked at him with shiny red eyes. He could hear Kate’s voice in his head, telling him to kiss her and he wanted to, but knowing this was not the time, he asked her if she wanted to come sit with him and John while they waited for Kate to wake up, hoping he sounded confident that she would do just that. She said yes, thankful that he would allow her to be with them and the two headed back in. While they walked, he made a silent promise that when he had his daughter back, he would ensure that Molly would be there with them. 

Kate had no idea how she got there, the last thing she remembered was pointing the gun at Moriaty and then everything went dark. Kate stood in a long hall, at each end there was a glowing white light, so she couldn’t see the end. All around her there were large wooden doors with plaques, some with dates and others with just words. She opened one that read ‘Dadda’. 

She recognised it immediately; it was her grandparents sitting room. It was just as warm and bright as the real thing. Cluttered with photos and artefacts from a long life together. There on the old worn rug, sat her and her dad, but not quite them. She was at least at least a year old and her dad looked younger. They were both still in pyjamas and her dad was holding flashcards in front of her; he was trying to teach her to talk. 

“Aconite, Love, can you say that?” He promoted. “A-CO-NITE.”

“Are you teaching her poisons?” Her grandmother called from the kitchen. 

“It’s better than animals.” He argued. 

“Dadda.” A little voice squeezed. Sherlock snapped his head back to her. 

“What did you say?” She crawled into his lap and poked his cheek. 

“Dadda.” 

“Yes.” He choked out. “I’m Dadda, that’s me.” He hugged her tightly and Kate slowly closed the door. 

“You’re Gran was glad it wasn’t a poison.” A voice said behind her. Sherlock stood there in his signature suit and his arms behind his back. A cheeky smile, the smile she inherited. 

“Dad.” She breathed and ran to hug him. When they let go, she looked at him with wide eyes. “Where am I?”

“I think you know the answer.” 

“Is this my head, my mind palace?”

“And you seem to be stuck and you have to leave before it’s too late.” He explained. 

“But I don’t know how to do that, until now I didn’t think I had one.” 

“You’re my daughter of course you do, remember what I told you about coming back.” He prompted. 

“You need an anchor.” She remembered. “What’s mine?”

“If you don’t know then neither do I.” 

“Of course you don’t; we’re in my head, I’m basically talking to myself.” 

“Interesting conversation, with an interesting person.” 

“And we know so few.” She added, with a smile. “Right, you come and go from your mind palace all the time, how do you do it?”

“You just need to find your way back, find the right door.” He explained, or was it her explaining it to herself? 

“Find the right door, okay shouldn’t be too hard.” She turned and looked down the other hall before letting out a frustrated groan at the sight of all the doors. “But which…” When she turned back, her dad was gone, which elicited another cry of frustration. She walked for a while, seeing nothing but hall and bright white light, should she avoid that then? She then spotted another door, this one had her birthday. When she opened it, she was confused for a second, until she recognised where she was. It was a hospital nursery where the new babies were put. This wasn’t a birthday, this was her actual birthday and standing in the middle of the nursery was her dad, swaying back and forth, with a little pink bundle in his arms. 

“You’re so tiny and fragile, why have I been left with you?” He whispered in disbelief, her little fingers curling around the blanket. Her grandparents would always tell her how nervous her dad was when she was born; so afraid to be left alone with her convinced he would do something that would have irreversible damage as she grew, they always found it highly amusing. 

“Now listen, I’m not sure how this will turn out, but I am going to try really hard I promise.” He kissed her head. “You’re going to hear some bad stuff about me as you grow up, but I promise I am going to make it right, I will make it right for you.” He promised her. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with your mum, but I’ll always be here.”

“You kept your promise.” She whispered, closing the door softly, so not to disturb the memory. Then it came to her, her dad said she needed an anchor that’s why her dad always came back, he came back to her. Every crime scene, every undercover case or every case that took him out of London, he always came back, he always came back to her. “And now I have to come back to him.”

“Better hurry, I don’t do well on my own.” 

“You’re a grown ass man and you can’t look after yourself.” She teased.

“Well you’re okay, so I must have done something right.” He argued. 

“Did I just compliment myself?” 

“Think of it as self-esteem. So which door?”

“Well, if you’re what brings me home, I need to find your door.” She reasoned. “Because you’re…” She paused as suddenly the front door to 221B appeared in front of her. “Home.” She turned back to Mind Sherlock, who was smirking at her in the same way he did when she got a deduction right or when she insulted Anderson, it meant he was proud of her. 

“You are going to be so mad at me.” 

“Probably, but I’ll be relived you’re okay.” 

“You may be so pissed you send me to a boarding school.” 

“I highly doubt that, like I said; I don’t do well on my own.” He came and hugged her tight, kissing her forehead. “Now please come home.” 

“I’ll see you soon.” She promised, before opening the door and being engulfed by a bright light.  
Her eyes suddenly felt heavy and her whole body ached. When the room came into focus, she saw her mind palace had been replaced by a hospital room. 

“Dad.” She mumbled. He snapped his head up and froze for a second before attacking her face with kisses. When he stopped John and Molly took his place, thanking god, heaven and just about everything in between. 

“What happened?” 

“Well, you were stupid and got shot.” Sherlock said in a mock cheerful tone. John and Molly exchanged a look and quickly left the room, saying something about coffee and left the two alone, clearly seeing they needed to talk. 

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” He said through gritted teeth.

“I did it to protect you.” She argued. 

“This is my job, you shouldn’t have been anywhere near that roof.” 

“What about me if you went up there instead? He contacted me and said he’d hurt you, not just you but John and Molly, Mrs Hudson, all my friends. He had pictures of you all.” She explained. “You feel pissed, disappointed, maybe a little proud. You can hate me and decide I’m not worth it and send me to some boarding school in Switzerland, I don’t care. Just as long as your safe, I don’t care.” 

“Yes, yes, more then I really should be in this situation, never in a million years, you are worth everything and after that I am never letting you out of my sight.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you but I’m not sorry for protecting you.” 

“That’s supposed to be my job. I know why you did it and I would do the same, but you are so grounded for this, I mean you’ll be lucky if you get to see the light of day.” 

“So, what I’m stuck with you?” She asked in mock horror.

“Yeah, looks like it.” He told her, looking quite pleased with himself. “

"Well you won’t accept a knighthood, so you’ll have to settle for me.” She teased. Sherlock leaned over and kissed her head before taking off his shoes and jacket. Kate shifted to the side and made room for him to curl up next to her. Careful of her injuries and the tubes, he wrapped an arm around her pulled her close. 

“You’re worth so much more then a knighthood.” He assured her. "And I wouldn't trade you for all the triple homicides in the world."


	18. New Beginnings

Sherlock had been dragged away from Kate’s side by his brother and the two of them were talking in the hall, probably about what had gone down in the last twenty- four hours. Molly had been sent to get some proper food and Mary was on her way. Leaving John and Kate in the room. There was a tension between the two as this was the first time, they would be alone since the phone call, which for all either of them knew could have been the last time they talked.

“I’m sorry for putting you through that.” She spoke finally.

“I understand why, Sherlock told me that he threatened the lot of us.” He signed. “I can’t imagine I would have done any different.” 

“Hey, we match now.” She gestured to her injured shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, we do, listen your Dad isn’t the only one who has been a mess from all, so have I.” He began, sign and looking at the floor, not sure how to go about this.

“Oh yeah.” She prompted.

“Yeah, the day I met Sherlock I was looking for a flatmate and I had no idea he would become my best friend. This mad, eccentric arsehole who had a wonderful daughter who was as mad as him and who I would grow to love very much.”

“I love you to and I’m so glad you stuck around.” Kate reached for his hand and held it tight. “By the way he’s worse than I am.”

“You shot the head of massive crime organisation.”

“And you shot a taxi driving serial killer. You’re just as mad as us.”

“Yeah, well I must be, I live with you two.” It was then that Sherlock and Mycroft came in. Sherlock returned to his spot on Kate’s bed and Mycroft took a seat before talking. 

“The official record says that one of my agents shot Moriaty and Kate was never there.” His tone leaving no room for argument. “A third party would be bad enough but one who was underage would be a disaster. No one but us, Anthea and Miss Hooper need know she was ever there. I take it Miss Morstan knows?”

“She won’t breathe a word.” Sherlock assured his brother, who nodded. 

“How do we explain my injury?” Kate asked. 

“You were in a car accident.” Sherlock butted in. “Nothing too serious but you were brought to hospital as a precaution.”

“I can have a plastic surgeon take care of the scar.” Mycroft offered. 

“No, I want to keep it.” She waited for someone who argue against it, but no one did. 

“Then that’s that.” Mycroft signed. 

“So what happens with the network?” John asked. 

“The less you know the better Doctor Watson.” Mycroft assured him. 

It was then that Anthea, Mary and Molly came in. Completely ignoring the men and going straight for Kate. They each had snacks and Mary had a bunch of flowers. Any talk of Moriaty or criminal networks was forgotten as the seven of them talked and ate, all the while Kate could feel herself growing stronger. It went on like this for a few days after the surgery, Sherlock was always there, and he was usually accompanied by someone else. The most interesting was when Sherlock and Molly were there together. Molly would chat away as usual, but Sherlock seemed to be looking at her differently, his expression was softer and wherever Molly caught him looking at her, she blushed. That was nothing new, what was new was that Sherlock seemed to always be looking at her when his attention wasn’t on Kate. Something Kate called him out on when they were packing her bag to go home after the doctor cleared her to leave with a pain killer prescription and instruction on how to change the dressing (which John could probably do much better the that one could).

“You and Molly?” She promoted. 

“I plan to ask her out later.” He replied with a grin, leaving Kate shocked.

“You what?”

“After your surgery, she helped me see I wasn’t the only one who was hurting and I realised you’re right, I do care about her very much. I could love her, but I knew that already, I was just worried about how my work and you would change thing.” He explained. 

“Me?”

“If I messed something up, you’d lose a friend and I would hate that. As for the work, Moriaty went after her anyway, maybe keeping her close would be the best way to go.” He mused. 

“That’s what I always said.” She teased. Sherlock took her bag and ruffled her hair, taking her out to where the taxi was waiting to take them home. 

All the way home Kate pestered him about how he was going to ask Molly; would he bring flowers? Would he go to the morgue and surprise her? If not flowers what about chips? Sherlock just smiled and told her he had a plan. Once they got back to Baker Street, Mrs Hudson hugged Kate and teared up as she kissed her cheeks and helped her up the stairs. Sherlock held back and pulled out his phone and texted Molly.

Coffee?- SH

I thought U were at 221B?- MH

Not now- SH

I mean later- SH

Like a café- SH

Like a date?- MH

Exactly like a date- SH

I’d love 2 😊 - MH 

Perfect- SH 

Sherlock tucked his phone away and headed up the stairs. For the time in a while he felt quite excited for the future.


	19. Epilogue six months later

To say things were different at 221B Baker Street was an understatement. Firstly, John had moved in with Mary in their own home about twenty minutes away from 221B. Secondly, Molly had basically moved in and it was only a matter of time until it was a permeant situation. Finally, a smile, although often regarded as ‘creepy’ or ‘weird’ could be seen on Sherlock’s face most of the time (even when he was bored). To be fair who could blame him? 

Kate had made a full recovery but was still on probation as Sherlock liked to call it. John was happy with Mary who was absolutely wonderful, she had an above average intelligence and encouraged their partnership unlike most of John’s ex- girlfriends. On top of that, his relationship with Molly was, to best describe it, spectacular. His fears about messing things up seemed to be for nothing. They were compatible, as they always where and she was an even better asset to his work as a romantic partner then when she was a colleague. But that wasn’t all, she understood him in a way it seemed no one else could, because they had known each other so long he didn’t need to explain himself like he had in the past. She knew him. She saw him. To make things even better, she and Kate got along like a house on fire juts like they always had but now they seemed closer then ever. She had joined Kate and Anthea on days out on multiple occasions and the two women had formed a strong bond, most likely over how trying it was to be with a Holmes brother. The three of them had really become like a little family, there had even been times where someone would mistake Molly for Kate’s mother and none of them had been corrected.  
Yes, life was good. This was what Sherlock thought as the five of them were planning John and Mary’s wedding. 

“John’s cousin; top table?” Mary suggested. 

“Hates you.” Sherlock deadpanned. 

“Can’t stand the thought of you.” Kate added.

“Sorry?”

“Petrol station card, third class stamp.” Sherlock explained, showing Mary said card. “Licked it three times, she’s unconsciously withholding saliva.” 

“Aww stick her by the bogs.” Mary said cheerfully. 

“Yes, that’s wonderful.” Molly said into the phone, coming in from the kitchen. She paused as the person on the other end spoke, she seemed very pleased with herself. “No thank you Karen, we’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone and turned to John. “I was able to rescheduled the fitting for you and Sherlock.” 

“Made it sound like her idea?” Kate asked with a sly smile as Molly plopped down in Sherlock’s chair. 

“Yes I did.” She replied. 

“That’s my girl.” Sherlock smiled at her. It was a warm bright smile that made her heart swell. “Right serviettes; swan or opera house?”

“Where did you learn that?” John asked. 

“You’d be amazed how much napkin folding comes up in criminal investigation…”

“Fibbing Dad.”

“I once broke an alibi but demonstrating…”

“I know where you’re fibbing Sherlock.” Mary argued.

“I learned it on YouTube.” He finally revealed, much to everyone else amusement.

“Is that why you were up late the other night?” Molly asked. 

“Maybe.” He mumbled. Molly giggled and moved to sit next to him, kissing his cheek. Kate mock gaged at their affection and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. They still had a lot of work to do, but it was going to be worth it. Yes, life was definitely good. 

Across London, in his office Mycroft was looking over some files, with a concerned look on his face. Mycroft didn’t know how he would solve this. He had solved multiple national emergencies, most of which the public never got a whiff of, it was quite possible he prevented World War III, twice. He was a calm and collected man who knew how to solve complex issues, but he had no idea what to do for this one. 

“Hi Love.” A cheerful voice greeted. Mycroft’s head snapped up and a wave of relief washed over him. Over a decade ago, he would have scoffed at people who claimed to feel this way, but now he could truly see the appeal. His relief was clear to Anthea who smiled brightly at her husband, as she moved closer to him with a slight limp from her new shoes. 

“Happy to see me?”

“Aren’t I always?” 

“True.” She sat herself on his desk, carful of his work and kissed him before showing him her phone. 

“Turns out your brother is an expert napkin folder. Kate sent me this.” She showed him the picture Kate had sent her of Sherlock surrounded by opera house serviettes. 

“Very impressive.” He teased, happy for the distraction.

“Where was this skill at our wedding?” She mused, before turning back to her beloved. “Anyway, that meeting with the diplomat was postponed so I was wondering if you fancied a long lunch together?”

“Sounds lovely.” As the couple went to stand up, Anthea winched in pain and lost her footing for a moment. Her hand knocked the files as she tried to get her balance, sending them to the floor. Anthea apologised and started to pick it up before Mycroft could stop her. A photo caught her eye and after a moment she looked up at him confused. 

“What is this?” She asked, showing him the surveillance photo. It was nothing special, just a woman walking past a camera, seemingly unaware she was being watched. 

“An old photo from years back.” He tried, not at all sounding convinced. 

“Then why is the date from two weeks ago? Or has the zombie apocalypse finally come?”

“I can explain.” He had the good sense to look ashamed of himself. Anthea stood and went to lock the door before sitting across from him with her arms crossed. 

“Well?” She promoted. 

“It’s a long story.” He began. 

“Like I said; long lunch.” Mycroft took a deep breath and prepared himself. 

“Sarah is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say I quite proud of this one and I have every intention of writing a sequel once I have it all planned out. I hope you have all enjoyed this story and


End file.
